^  '»  '«'  '..i- w -' 


•I 


REESE  LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


A 


j& 


MEMOBIES. 


A   RECORD   OF  PERSONAL   EXPERIENCE  AND 

ADVENTURE  DURING  FOUR 

YEARS  OF  WAR. 


BY 


MRS.  FANNIE  A.  BEERS. 


PKESS   OF   J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA. 

1891. 


Belford's  Magazine,  the  Great  Medium  of  the  South, 


Copyright,  1888,  by  FANNIE  A.  BEERS. 


TO 


"THE  BOYS  WHO  WOKE  THE   GKAY," 

WHETHER  THE   LOFTY   OR  THE  LOWLY; 

EQUALLY   TO  THE  SURVIVING   HEROES  WHO  STAND   BEFORE    THE    WORLD   IN   THE   LIGHT 

OF   A  GLORY   NEVER   SURPASSED,    AND  TO  THE  MARTYRS   WHOSE   PATRIOT 

BLOOD  AND  SACRED   GRAVES  HAVE   FOREVER    SANCTIFIED 

THE  LAND  THEY   LOVED, 

THESE   "MEMORIES" 

ABE  RESPECTFULLY  AND  LOVINGLY  DEDICATED. 


227190 


Ye  Daintye  Ladycs  Please  Take  Notice. 

HARRIET  HUBBARD  AYER'S 

RECAMIER 

Toilet  Preparations. 

RECAMIER    CREAM.       For   Tan,   Sunburn, 

and  Pimples.     Price,  $1.50. 
RECAMIER    BALM.      A  Beautifier  Pure  and 

Simple.     Price,  $1.50. 
RECAMIER    LOTION.      For  Removing  Moth 

„      and  Freckles.     Price,  $1.50. 
RECAMIER    POWDER.       Guaranteed    Pure. 
Will  Not  Make  the  Face  Shine.     Large 
^       boxes,  $i. oo.     Small  boxes,  50  cents. 
RECAMIER  SOAP.      Delicate,   Healing,   and 
Pure.    Scented,  50  cts.    Unscented,  25  cts. 

These  Preparations  are  famous  as  the  ones  en 
dorsed  and  used  by  the  most  beautiful  women 
of  every  country.  Voluntary  testimonials  from 
Mesdames  Adelina  Patti  Nicolini,  Bernhardt, 
Langtry,  Potter,  Modjeska,  Clara  Louise 
Kellogg',  and  thousands  of  others. 

Send  for  Circulars,  with  copies  of  endorse 
ments  and  full  particulars,  to 

HARRIET   Illlili  YRH   AYER, 


305  Fifth  Avenue, 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 


F.  N.  DEVOE   &   CO., 


101  and  103  Fulton  Street, 

NEW  YORK  CITY, 


176   Randolph   Street, 

CHICAGO. 


Manufacturers  and  Importers  of 


SEND    FOR    CATALOGUE. 


PEEFAOE. 


FOR  several  years  my  friends  among  Confederate  sol 
diers  have  been  urging  me  to  "  write  up"  and  publish 
what  I  know  of  the  war.  By  personal  solicitation  and 
by  letter  this  subject  has  been  brought  before  me  and 
placed  in  the  light  of  a  duty  which  I  owe  to  posterity. 
Taking  this  view  of  it,  I  willingly  comply,  glad  that  I 
am  permitted  to  stand  among  the  many  "  witnesses"  who 
shall  establish  "  the  truth,"  proud  to  write  myself  as 
one  who  faithfully  served  the  defenders  of  the  Cause 
which  had  and  has  my  heart's  devotion.  I  have  tried 
to  give  a  faithful  record  of  my  experiences,  to  "  noth 
ing  extenuate  nor  aught  set  down  in  malice,"  and  I 
have  told  the  truth,  but  not  always  the  whole  truth.  A 
few  of  these  "Memories"  were  originally  written  for 
the  Southern  Bivouac,  and  are  here  republished  be 
cause  my  book  would  have  been  incomplete  without 
them. 

I  am  very  inexperienced  in  the  business  of  making 
books,  but  relying  with  confidence  upon  the  leniency  of 
my  friends,  and  feeling  sure  that  I  have  no  enemy  who 
will  savagely  rejoice  that  I  have  written  a  book,  I  make 
the  venture. 

1*  6 


JUNE    ROSES 


In  nature  there  are  few  things  more 
beautiful  than  the  first  bloom  of  June 
roses,  and  equally  attractive  is  the 

PEARL-LIKE  COMPLEXION 

* 

which  follows  the  use  of 


GLENN'S 
SULPHUR  SOAP. 


There    is  a   magic  about   this  ex 


traordinary  purifying  agent  which 
at  once  frees  the  skin  from  disease, 
discolorations,  tan,  pimples,  blotches, 
and  every  species  of  blemish  which 
mars  the  beauty  of  what  should  be  a 

CLEAR  COMPLEXION. 

In  fact  Glenn's   Sulphur   Soap  is 

an  article  without  which  a  young 
lady's  toilet  is  incomplete. 


BY    ^VT^I^     r>TlTJGGISTS. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY  .  9 


PART    I. 

CHAPTEK    I. 
Alpha 26 

CHAPTER    II. 
Alabama 62 

CHAPTER    III. 
Buckner  Hospital,  Gainesville,  Alabama 69 

CHAPTER    IV. 
Ringgold 70 

CHAPTER    Y. 
Newnan,  Georgia 113 

CHAPTER    VI. 
Omega 171 

CHAPTER    VII. 
Confederate  Women 199 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
An  Incident  of  the  Battle  of  the  Wilderness 223 

CHAPTER    IX. 
Fenner's  Louisiana  Buttery 227 

CHAPTER    X. 
"Bob  Wheat" 244 

7 


CONTENTS. 

PART    II. 

FOR   YOUNG   PEOPLE. 
CHAPTEK    I. 


PAG, 

246 


CHAPTER    II. 
Brave  Boys  .....................  276 

CHAPTER    III. 
The  Young  Color-tfearer  .................    279 

CHAPTER    IV. 
Bravery  honored  by  a  Foe  ............    •    .  285 

CHAPTER    V. 
Sally's  Ride  ...................  289 

CHAPTER    VI. 
High  Price  for  Needles  and  Thread    ............    293 

CHAPTER    VII. 

........   &    .....    296 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
Beauregard  ......................    300 


PART    III. 

AFTER   TWENTY    YEARS. 

CHAPTER    I. 
"My  Boys" 306 

CHAPTER    II. 
The  Confederate  Reunion  at  Dallas 312 

CHAPTER    III. 
Camp  Nichols 319 

CHAPTER    IV. 
The  March  of  Time 324 

CHAPTER    V. 
A  Woman's  Record 329 


INTRODUCTORY. 


AMONG  those  who  early  espoused  the  Southern  Cause, 
few,  perhaps,  were  more  in  earnest  than  my  husband 
and  myself.  Our  patriotism  was  at  the  very  outset  put 
to  a  crucial  test.  The  duties  of  a  soldier  and  a  civilian 
became  incompatible.  Being  in  ill  health,  it  was  thought 
best  that  I  should  go  to  my  mother  at  the  North  for 
awhile.  My  husband,  after  preliminary  service  with  the 
"  Minute  Men"  and  the  State  troops,  as  a  member  of 
Company  A,  Crescent  Bifles,  was,  with  this  company, 
regularly  mustered  into  the  Confederate  service  in 
April,  1861,  and  left  for  Pensacola,  Florida,  where  the 
Crescent  Rifles,  with  the  Louisiana  Guards,  Orleans 
Cadets,  Shreveport  Guards,  Terrebonne  Rifles,  and 
Grivot  Guards,  were  organized  into  the  Dreux  Bat 
talion.  It  was  then  supposed  that  "  the  affair"  would 
be  "  settled  in  ninety  days." 

From  my  house  of  refuge  I  watched  eagerly  the 
course  of  events,  until  at  last  all  mail  facilities  were  cut 
off,  and  I  was  left  to  endure  the  horrors  of  suspense  as 
well  as  the  irritating  consciousness  that,  although  so 
journing  in  the  home  of  my  childhood,  I  was  an  alien, 
an  acknowledged  "  Rebel,"  and  as  such  an  object  of  sus 
picion  and  dislike  to  all  save  my  immediate  family. 
Even  these,  with  the  exception  of  my  precious  mother, 
were  bitterly  opposed  to  the  South  and  Secession. 
From  mother  I  received  unceasing  care,  thorough  sym 
pathy,  surpassing  love.  During  this  troubled  time  a 

9 


io  '  ^IN'TROD  UCTORY. 

little  babe  was  born  to  me, — a  tiny  babe, — who  only  just 
opened  its  dark  eyes  upon  the  troubled  face  of  its 
mother  to  close  them  forever. 

The  guns  of  Sumter,  reverberating  throughout  the 
North,  "  stirred  a  fever  in  the  blood  of  age"  and  youth 
alike.  Fanatics  raved  more  wildly  than  ever,  while 
those  who  had  hitherto  been  lukewarm  hastened  to 
swell  the  cry  of  horror  and  fury  which  everywhere 
arose  at  this  "insult  to  our  flag."  This  feeling  found 
vent  in  acts  of  oppression,  met  by  prompt  and  deter 
mined  resistance,  and  thus  was  inaugurated  the  fratri 
cidal  strife  which  was  for  four  years  to  desolate  the  land. 

Eumors  of  an  engagement  in  Virginia  intensified  my 
suspense  until  it  seemed  unbearable.  One  day  I  re 
ceived  a  kindly  warning  from  an  old  friend  concerning 
a  small  Confederate  flag  which  had  been  sent  to  me  by 
my  husband.  It  was  a  tiny  silken  affair,  which  I  kept 
in  my  prayer-book.  This  harmless  possession  was  mag 
nified  by  the  people  of  the  town  Into  an  immense  rebel 
banner,  which  would  eventually  float  over  my  mother's 
house.  I  had  still  a  few  friends  whose  temperate  counsel 
had  hitherto  protected  me.  The  note  referred  to  warned 
me  that  while  I  retained  possession  of  the  flag  I  might 
at  any  time  expect  the  presence  of  a  mob.  I  would  not 
have  destroyed  my  treasure  for  worlds,  and  how  to  con 
ceal  it  became  a  subject  of  constant  thought.  The  dis 
covery  one  day  of  a  jar  of  "perpetual  paste"  in  mother's 
secretary  suggested  an  idea  which  was  at  once  carried 
out.  Applying  this  strongly  adhesive  mixture  to  one 
side  of  the  flag,  I  pasted  it  upon  the  naked  flesh  just 
over  my  heart.  One  morning  the  mail  brought  certain 
news  of  a  Confederate  victory  at  Big  Bethel.  This 
so  exasperated  the  people  that  on  their  way  from  the 
post-office  an  excited  crowd  halted  under  my  window, 
crying  out,  "Where's  that  rebel  woman?"  "Let's  have 


INTR  OD  UCTORY.  11 

that  flag,"  "  Show  your  colors,"  etc.  Carried  away  by 
intense  excitement,  I  threw  open  the  blinds,  and,  waving 
the  newspaper  above  my  head,  shouted,  "  Hurrah  I  Hur 
rah  for  Big  Bethel !  Hurrah  for  the  brave  rebels !"  A 
perfect  howl  of  rage  arose  from  below,  and  greater  evil 
might  have  befallen  but  for  the  timely  appearance  of 
the  venerable  village  doctor,  who  now  rode  hastily  in 
among  the  excited  men,  and,  standing  up  in  his  buggy, 
cried  out,  "  Friends,  she  is  but  a  frail,  defenceless  woman. 
Be  thankful  if  your  morning's  work  be  not  her  death." 
Slowly  and  sullenly  the  crowd  dispersed,  while  the  good 
doctor  hastily  ascended  to  my  chamber.  I  lay  with 
fevered  cheeks  and  burning  eyes  among  the  pillows 
where  my  mother  had  placed  me.  The  terrible  excite 
ment  under  which  I  labored  forbade  all  blame  or  any 
allusion  to  my  act  of  imprudence.  I  was  soothed  and 
tenderly  cared  for  until,  under  the  influence  of  a  sedative, 
I  fell  asleep. 

Early  next  morning  the  doctor  appeared  at  my  bed 
side.  Meantime  a  change  had  come  over  me.  I  seemed 
to  have  lost  the  nervous  excitability  of  a  girl  and  to  have 

become  a  woman,  full  of  courage  and  hope.     Dr. 

regarded  me  steadily  for  a  moment ;  then, — "  Ah  I  better 
this  morning?  That's  jny  brave  girl."  Meeting  his 
gaze  fully,  I  replied,  "  I  shall  try  henceforth  to  be  brave, 
as  befits  the  wife  of  a  soldier."  A  frown  appeared 
upon  the  doctor's  brow.  Tenderly  placing  his  hand 
upon  my  head,  he  said,  "  My  child,  I  fear  your  courage 
will  soon  be  put  to  the  test.  Your  own  imprudence  has 
greatly  incensed  the  town  people.  Danger  menaces 
you,  and  through  you,  your  mother.  Fortunately,  the 
friends  of  your  childhood  still  desire  to  protect  you ;  but 
your  only  safety  lies  in  giving  up  the  rebel  flag  which 
it  is  said  you  possess.  Give  it  to  me,  Fannie,  and  I  will 
destroy  it  before  their  eyes,  and  thus  avert  the  threat- 


12  INTRODUCTORY. 

ened  danger."     I  only  smiled,  as  I  replied :  "  Dr. , 

since  the  rebel  flag  has  existed,  I  have  cherished  it  in 
my  heart  of  hearts.     You  may  search  the  house  over ; 
you  will  find  no  flag  but  the  one  I  have  here,"  placing 
my  hand  on  my  heart.     The  good  man  had  known  me 
from  childhood,  and  he  could  not  doubt  me.     He  ques 
tioned  no  further,  but  took  his  leave,  promising  to  use 
his  influence  with  the  incensed  villagers.     They,  how 
ever,   were   not   so   easily   convinced.     They  had  been 
wrought  up  to  a  state  of  frenzied  patriotism,  and  de 
clared  they  would  search  the  house  where  the  obnoxious 
flag  was  supposed  to  be.    Dire  threats  of  vengeance  were 
heard  on  every  side.    At  last  a  committee  was  appointed 
to  wait  upon  "  the  traitress"  and  again  demand  the  sur 
render  of  the  flag.    It  was  composed  of  gentlemen  who, 
though  thorough  and  uncompromising  "  Union   men," 
were  yet  well  known  to  me,  and  were  anxious,  if  pos 
sible,  to  shield  me.     They  were  admitted  to  the  room, 
where  I  calmly  awaited  them.    I  reiterated  the  assertion 
made  to  the  doctor,  so  calmly,  and  with  such  apparent 
truth,  that  they  were  staggered.    But  they  had  come  to 
perform  a  duty,  and  they  meant  to  succeed.     They  con 
vinced  me  that  the  danger  to  myself  and  to  the  house 
of  my  mother  was  real  and  imminent,  but  I  only  re 
peated  my  assertions,  though  my  heart  throbbed  pain 
fully  as  I  saw  the  anxiety  and  trouble  in  mother's  face. 
Suddenly  I  remembered   that  I  had  in  my  possession 
a  paper  which,  just  before  all  mail  communication  had 
ceased  between  the  North  and  South,  had  been  sent  to 
me  for  the  purpose  of  protection.     It  was  simply  a  cer 
tificate  of  my  husband's  membership  and  good  standing 
in  a  Masonic  lodge,  and  had  a  seal  affixed.     As  I  called 
for  the  portfolio,  all  eyes  brightened  with  expectation  of 
seeing  at  last  the  "  rebel  flag."     Drawing  forth  from  its 
envelope  the  fateful  document,  I  said,  "I  was  told  to 


IN  TROD  UCTOR  Y.  13 

use  this  only  in  dire  extremity;  it  seems  to  me  that 
such  a  time  is  at  hand.  If  there  be  any  virtue  in  Ma 
sonry,  let  it  now  protect  me  and  the  roof  which  is  at 
present  my  only  shelter  1" 

Thus  speaking,  I  handed  the  paper  to  one  whom  I 
knew  to  be  a  prominent  Mason.  The  certificate  was  duly 
examined  and,  after  a  short  conference,  returned.  "  We 
will  do  our  best,"  said  the  spokesman  of  the  party,  and  all 
withdrew.  The  day  passed  without  further  trouble,  and 
as  I  sank  to  sleep  that  night  there  came  to  me  a  feeling 
of  safety  and  protection,  which  was  indeed  comforting. 

Weeks  passed,  during  which  I  slowly  but  surely 
gathered  the  strength  and  health  necessary  to  carry 
out  the  resolution  lately  formed,  to  join  my  husband, 
and,  if  might  be,  to  labor  for  the  cause  so  loved.  The 
unceasing  ministrations  of  my  mother  strengthened  alike 
soul  and  body,  but  as  I  read  in  that  dear  face  a  love  and 
devotion  which  could  never  fail,  my  heart  felt  many  a 
bitter  pang  at  the  thought  of  the  parting  that  must  be. 

One  evening,  having  found  the  courage  necessary  to 
tell  mother  of  my  plans  and  hopes,  to  my  surprise  the 
noble  woman  heard  me  calmly.  "  I  had  expected  this," 
she  said.  "  It  is  right — you  must  go  ;  but,  oh  !  not  now 
— not  soon,"  and  in  uncontrollable  agitation  she  left 
the  room.  Two  days  later  the  subject  was  resumed. 
Ways  and  means  were  discussed.  The  mother's  face 
grew  paler  as  that  of  her  child  brightened  and  glowed 
with  returning  health  and  hope.  She  pleaded  to  keep 
my  little  boy,  but  fearing  lest  his  young  heart  might 
receive,  among  the  enemies  of  Southern  liberty,  impres 
sions  which  could  not  be  effaced,  I  decided  that  he  must 
not  be  left. 

Upon  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Manassas  we  started 
on  our  hazardous  journey.  The  utmost  secrecy  had 
been  observed.  NQ  baggage  could  be  allowed.  My 

2 


1 4  INTR  OD  UCTO  R  Y. 

thoughtful  mother  converted  quite  a  large  sum  into  gold, 
which,  stitched  into  a  broad  belt,  was  sewed  around  my 
waist.  One  bright  morning  mother  and  I,  with  my  boy, 
seated  ourselves  in  the  carriage  as  if  for  our  usual  drive. 
There  was  no  leave-taking,  no  appearance  of  anything 
unusual.  Once  on  the  road,  we  were  rapidly  driven  to 
a  railroad  depot  in  a  distant  town;  there  I  took  the 
train,  while  my  poor  mother  returned  homeward  alone. 

****  *  *  *  * 

Arrived  in  Baltimore,  we  found  ourselves  among  those 
whose  hearts  were  filled  with  ardent  love  of  "  the 
Cause,"  and  bitter  hatred  for  the  soldiers  who  had,  in 
spite  of  their  heroic  resistance,  so  lately  passed  through 
the  streets  of  the  city  on  their  way  to  subjugate  the 
South.  "  The  rebel"  was  enthusiastically  received.  All 
were  ready  to  assist  her,  but  at  this  juncture  it  seemed 
impossible  to  pass  the  Federal  lines. 

The  great  battle  of  Manassas  had  been  decided.  The 
wildest  excitement  prevailed.  Flying  soldiers  were 
everywhere.  Almost  every  hour  the  sound  of  fife  and 
drum  was  heard,  as  shattered  regiments  and  decimated 
battalions  marched  through  the  streets.  Although  all 
expression  of  feeling,  among  the  citizens,  was  sternly 
repressed,  the  mask  of  sullen  indifference  was  known  to 
be  but  a  mask.  Hearts  beneath  were  bounding  with 
pride  and  joy  and  hope.  Almost  without  exception, 
houses  were  closed  and  devoid  of  all  appearance  of  life. 
Yet  behind  those  closely-shut  blinds  women  embraced 
each  other  with  tempestuous  joy,  or  paced  the  floor  in 
uncontrollable  agitation,  or  knelt  in  earnest  prayer, 
mingling  thanksgivings  with  agonized  petitions  for 
those  whose  fate  was  yet  unknown.  Mothers,  sisters, 
wives,  strove,  with  trembling  lips,  to  comfort  each  other, 
bidding  the  voice  of  patriotism  be  heard  above  the 
"  tempest  of  the  heart."  In  the  midst  of  all  this  ex- 


INTROD  UCTOR  Y.  15 

citement  my  interests  were  never  lost  sight  of.  Secret 
meetings  were  held,  and  various  plans  discussed.  At 
last,  one  day  a  note  was  received  inviting  mo  to  spend 
a  social  evening  at  the  house  of  "  one  of  the  faithful." 
A  casual  observer  would  have  discovered  nothing  more 
than  a  few  lines  of  invitation,  still  the  paper  bore  a 
private  mark  which  made  my  heart  beat  with  hope. 

Arrived  at  the  house  indicated,  where  seemed  to  be 
only  an  ordinary  gathering  of  friends,  I  found  it  difficult 
to  appear  at  ease,  and  watched  eagerly  for  developments. 
Not  a  sign  or  a  word  was  given,  however,  until  after 
supper,  when  the  ladies  repaired  (as  usual)  to  the  dress 
ing-room  up-stairs  to  rearrange  their  toilets.  Instead 
of  entering  with  the  rest,  the  hostess,  by  a  slight  pres 
sure  of  the  hand,  indicated  to  me  that  I  was  desired  to 
pass  on  and  up  a  second  flight  of  stairs. 

We  did  so  unnoticed,  and  soon  entered  a  small  room 
in  the  third  story,  where  were  found  Awaiting  a  few 
friends,  among  them  a  captain  and  clerk  of  a  steamboat 
which  was  expected  to  leave  in  three  days  for  Newport 
News  with  United  States  troops  to  reinforce  Colonel 
Phelps  at  that  point.  Here  appeared  to  bo  a  chance,  but 
a  hazardous  one,  since  the  officers  of  the  boat  must  not 
evince  any  interest  in  their  passenger,  and  could  afford 
no  assistance  or  protection  among  the  rough  soldiers 
who  would  crowd  every  available  foot  of  room.  They 
must  appear  as  good  Union  men,  engaged  in  transport 
ing  troops  to  assist  in  quelling  "  the  rebellion."  In  case 
of  any  rough  treatment  of  the  "  rebel  woman,"  they 
could  only  appeal  to  the  officers  in  charge  of  the  troops, 
and  the  result  of  such  an  appeal,  in  the  present  state  of 
feeling,  would  be  doubtful.  The  boat  was  not  a  pas 
senger  steamer,  and  had  only  two  or  three  small  state 
rooms,  occupied  by  its  officers.  These  might  be  required 
by  the  military  commanders.  Instantly,  and  unhesitat- 


1 6  INTR  0  D  UCTORY. 

ingly,  I  decided  to  make  the  trial.  We  ladies  then  de 
scended  to  the  parlor,  while  one  by  one  our  friends  wore 
conveyed  out  of  the  house. 

A  new  difficulty  at  once  arose;  a  friend  had  applied  to 
General  Scott  for  a  pass — unsuccessfully.  The  precious 
hours  were  passing,  and  failure  seemed  imminent.  This 
difficulty  was  increased  by  the  fact  that  I  had  undertaken 
the  charge  of  Jemmy  Little,  a  boy  of  ten,  who,  having 
lingered  too  long  at  school  in  Baltimore,  had  been  cut 
off  from  his  family  in  Norfolk,  and  being  desperately 
unhappy,  had  implored  to  be  included  in  the  plans  formed 
for  me.  He  was  to  pass  as  my  brother,  and,  having  once 
promised,  I  could  not  disappoint  him,  especially  as  his 
waking  hours  were  spent  by  my  side,  his  hand  often 
nestling  into  my  own,  his  large  wistful  eyes  questioning 
my  face,  as  if  dreading  to  find  there  some  evidence  of 
hesitation  or  change  of  purpose. 

One  day  passed.  At  evening,  as  I  was  anxiously 
pacing  my  room,  my  hostess  hurriedly  entered,  exclaim 
ing,  in  agitation,  "  Your  brother  awaits  you  in  the  draw 
ing-room.  I  could  not  welcome  him.  I  will  not  see  him. 
Only  for  your  sake  would  I  allow  a  Federal  soldier  to 
cross  my  threshold  ;  but  he  is  your  brother  ;  go  to  him." 

Trembling  with  excitement,  I  descended  to  the  parlor, 
where  I  found  my  brother, — a  mere  boy  yet, — wearing 
the  uniform  of  a  Federal  officer. 

"  Sister!"  "  Charles !"  each  cried,  and  no  further  greet 
ing  passed  between  us.  The  boy  stood  with  folded 
arms,  looking  proudly,  yet  tenderly,  at  me,  his  only 
sister,  all  the  brave  ardor  of  a  soldier  who  believes  in 
the  cause  he  serves  revealed  in  his  handsome  young  face. 
I  sank  into  a  chair  and  covered  my  face,  that  I  might 
shut  out  the  sight  which  so  pained  me.  The  interview 
that  followed  was  long.  Finding  that  my  brother  not 
only  approved  the  determination  to  join  my  husband, 


INTRODUCTORY.  17 

but  was  able  and  willing  to  assist  in  obtaining  the  neces 
sary  pass,  I  told  him  of  my  wish  to  have  it  in  posses 
sion  by  the  next  day,  and  received  his  promise  to  send 
it,  if  possible.  He  was  going  to  "  the  front,"  and  over 
come  by  the  thought  that  I  might  never  see  him  again, 
[  threw  my  arms  around  his  neck,  while  tears  fell  fast 
upon  the  blue  uniform,  and  so,  with  a  last  embrace,  we 
parted. 

The  pass,  embracing  "  Mrs.  Beers,  brother,  and  child," 
was  forthcoming  next  day,  and  the  same  afternoon  I, 
with  my  boys,  set  forth  unattended  for  the  boat.  No 
sign  of  recognition  passed  between  the  captain  and  our 
selves  as  wo  were  conducted  to  the  upper  deck,  and 
seated  under  the  awning.  Soon  the  sound  of  drum 
and  fife  announced  the  approach  of  the  troops.  A  regi 
ment  of  blue-coated  soldiers  appeared  on  the  wharf,  and 
directly  they  marched  on  board.  Witnessing  their 
embarkation,  I  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  extreme 
uneasiness,  which  increased  as  officers  and  men  appeared 
on  every  side.  They  were  so  many:  I  was  the  only 
woman  on  the  boat.  Sitting  motionless,  with  veil  closely 
drawn,  holding  my  boy  on  my  lap,  while  poor  Jemmy 
nestled  close  to  my  side  (valiant  in  feeling,  but  of  boyish 
appearance,  and  looking  even  smaller  beside  the  tall 
soldiers),  I  hoped  to  pass  unobserved,  but  soon  after  the 
boat  left  the  wharf  found  myself  subjected  to  rude  stares 
and  ruder  remarks,  and  at  last  was  forced  to  seek  the 
clerk  to  beg  that  I  might  find  shelter  in  one  of  the  little 
state-rooms.  All  were  taken  by  the  officers,  who  seemed 
utterly  indifferent  to  the  forlorn  condition  of  "  Madanj 
Reb."  At  last  the  clerk  (after  a  short  consultation  with 
one  kindly-looking  officer,  who,  however,  seemed  half 
ashamed  of  the  kindness  of  heart  which  contrasted  so 
finely  with  the  rudeness  of  his  comrades)  led  the  way 
to  a  room  below, — small,  and  close,  but  a  shelter.  Here 
b  2* 


18  INTRODUCTORY. 

he  placed  us,  having  locked  us  in  to  prevent  intrusion. 
The  boys  soon  fell  asleep,  but  I  passed  the  night  in 
listening  to  the  ceaseless  noises  outside. 

Morning  found  the  boat  at  Fortress  Monroe,  whence, 
after  a  short  delay,  she  proceeded  to  Newport  News. 

Under  pretence  of  guarding  well  the  "  female  rebel," 
the  good  clerk  escorted  us  to  the  officers'  quarters. 
Here  my  pass  was  examined  closely ;  many  questions 
were  asked  and  answered.  Still,  the  result  seemed  doubt 
ful  ;  means  of  transportation  were  wanting.  The  colonel 
in  command  was  inclined  to  be  suspicious  and  sternly  un 
sympathetic.  While  standing  tremblingly  before  those 
whose  adverse  decision  would,  I  knew,  crush  all  my 
hopes,  one  of  the  officers  espied  around  my  neck  a  slender 
black  chain,  and  demanded  to  know  what  it  held.  In 
stantly  hope  returned :  I  drew  from  my  bosom  a  small 
case  enclosing  the  Masonic  document  before  mentioned. 
As  at  my  mother's  house,  it  was  examined  and  returned 
without  comment.  An  hour  later,  however,  a  plentiful 
repast  was  set  before  us,  after  which  a  covered  ambulance 
appeared,  in  which  was  placed  for  my  comfort  the  only 
arm-chair  the  camp  contained.  Soon,  attended  by  an 
officer  and  a  guard  of  Federal  soldiers,  our  little  party 
entered  upon  the  last  stage  of  our  journey  to  the  Con 
federate  lines. 

The  route  lay  amid  scenes  of  desolation  sadder  than 
anything  I  had  ever  dreamed  of.  Fields,  which  a  few 
short  weeks  before  had  given  promise  of  a  rich  harvest, 
were  laid  waste.  Here  and  there  tiny  columns  of  smoke 
arose  from  the  smouldering  ruins  of  once  happy  homes. 
The  heat  and  dust  were  almost  insufferable,  but  as  the 
sun  declined  a  cool  breeze  sprang  up,  and  later  a  flood 
of  moonlight  clothed  the  landscape  with  a  mystical 
beauty.  It  shone  coldly  on  the  few  deserted  homes 
which  the  hand  of  the  destroyer  had  spared,  and  to  me 


INTROD  UCTOR  Y.  19 

it  seemed  that  its  silvery  rays  were  like  the  pale  fingers 
of  a  mourner  who  places  white  wreaths  upon  the  grave 
of  love.  In  the  soft  wind  I  heard  only  moans  and 
sighs. 

The  children  slept  soundly  in  the  straw  at  the  bottom 
of  the  ambulance,  and  soon  the  steady,  monotonous  tramp 
of  the  guard  lulled  me  also  to  rest.  Wo  approached  the 
Confederate  lines  just  at  sunrise.  A  flag  of  truce  was 
unfurled,  and  at  once  answered  by  an  officer  on  picket- 
duty.  A  short  parley  ensued.  At  a  word  of  command 
the  Federal  guard  fell  back  and  were  replaced  by  Con 
federates.  A  moment  later,  I,  with  my  charges,  de 
scended,  to  be  greeted  with  enthusiasm,  tempered  with 
the  most  chivalrous  respect,  by  the  "  boys  in  gray,"  who 
proved  to  be  members  of  the  battalion  to  which  my 
husband  was  attached,  and  who  at  once  relieved  my 
fears  by  assurances  of  his  safety.  It  was  a  supreme 
moment,  such  as  comes  seldom  in  a  lifetime,  and  yet  a 
time  for  stern  self-repression. 

The  emotions  of  a  heart  at  rest,  after  trials  so  sore, 
were  too  sacred  to  find  expression. 

I  gazed  around  me  in  silent  ecstasy.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  sun  had  never  shone  so  brightly,  or  on  a 
scene  so  lovely.  Noting  the  manly  faces  and  noble 
bearing  of  those  who  wore  the  gray,  I  felt  that  the 
purple  and  ermine  of  kings  could  not  have  clothed  them 
half  so  magnificently.  And,  oh !  how  delicious  and  ap 
petizing  seemed  "  the  rations,"  which,  though  simple, 
were  served  under  those  green  trees  with  the  earnest, 
genuine  hospitality  which  is  so  well  described  by  the 
term  "Southern." 

The  camp  being  several  miles  distant,  nothing  re 
mained  but  to  wait  patiently  for  some  means  of  trans 
portation.  It  was  near  sunset  when  the  loud  singing  of 
a  negro  driver  was  heard.  Soon  he  appeared  upon  a 


20  INTRODUCTORY. 

novel  conveyance, — a  rough,  unplaned  board  or  two  on 
wheels  and  drawn  by  a  single  ox.  Unpromising  as  this 
"turnout"  appeared,  we  were  informed  that  it  was  a 
"  Godsend,"  so  we  joyfully  mounted  the  cart,  a  soldier 
being  detailed  to  accompany  us.  My  little  son  was  made 
supremely  happy  by  being  invited  to  sit  upon  the  lap 
of  the  driver,  whose  characteristic  songs  beguiled  the 
way  through  the  shadowy  woods.  Within  a  few  miles 
of  camp  the  challenge  of  a  sentry  was  heard ;  half  an 
hour  later  we  found  ourselves  among  the  tents  of  the 
Dreux  Battalion. 

My  husband  was  "  on  guard,"  perhaps  thinking  sadly 
of  his  absent  wife  and  boy,  certainly  never  dreaming 
they  were  so  near.  As  the  ambulance  drove  into  camp 
it  was  at  once  surrounded  by  soldiers,  both  officers  and 
privates.  As  soon  as  my  name  was  known,  some  one 
who  evidently  appreciated  the  situation  rushed  off  in 
hot  haste  to  notify  and  relieve  the  soldier  most  interested. 
Meantime  a  dozen  hands  clasped  mine  in  kindly  greet 
ing.  To  whom  they  belonged  I  could  not  tell,  for  the 
dense  shade  shut  out  the  moonlight,  and  seen  by  the 
light  of  the  camp-fires,  disguised  as  each  one  was  in  the 
rough  garb  of  a  soldier,  my  quondam  city  friends  were 
quite  unrecognizable. 

I  will  leave  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader  the 
happy  meeting  between  long-parted  ones  and  the  many 
caresses  showered  upon  our  child. 

I  had  expected  nothing  better  than  to  spend  the  night 
in  the  ambulance  or  under  a  tent,  and  would  have  taken 
great  pride  in  "  camping  out,"  but  the  chivalrous  officers 
in  command  would  not  hear  of  such  a  plan.  Their 
quarters  (two  rooms  in  a  little  log  house)  were  instantly 
vacated,  and  I  had  scarcely  descended  from  the  vehicle 
when  a  negro  man  appeared,  to  bring  a  message.  "Do 
Major's  compliments,  mistis,  and  de  room  am  ready.11 


INTRODUCTORY,  21 

I  could  not  have  been  bidden  to  a  luxurious  apartment 
with  more  ceremony. 

The  next  morning  the  shrill  sound  of  the  fife  and  the 
drum  beating  the  "  reveille"  aroused  us,  and  we  were  up 
with  the  sun. 

The  scene  was  entrancing;  to  me  particularly  so, 
for  the  white  tents  gleaming  among  the  trees  reminded 
me  that  I  was  among  Southern  soldiers.  As  they  strode 
to  and  fro  with  martial  air,  fully  armed  and  equipped  to 
answer  roll-call,  or  bent  over  the  camp-fires  preparing 
breakfast,  it  seemed  to  me  that  no  such  splendid  soldiers 
were  ever  before  seen.  Several  invitations  to  breakfast 
were  received ;  that  of  the  officers'  mess,  having  been 
first,  was  accepted. 

Major came  in  person  to  escort  his  guests  to  a 

lovely  spot  near  the  cabin,  where,  under  a  large  shady 
oak,  upon  a  table  of  rough  boards  covered  with  a  nice 
white  cloth,  a  delicious  meal  was  set,  consisting  of  broiled 
chickens,  omelet,  fragrant  coffee,  buttermilk,  corn  bread, 
and  batter-cakes.  A  likely  young  negro  boy  attended 
at  table,  industriously  flourishing  a  green  branch  to  keep 
away  the  flies,  and  seemingly  delighted  to  show  off  his 
company  manners. 

After  breakfast  I  sat  long  upon  the  little  gallery  of 
the  log  cabin  entertaining  soldier  visitors  and  enjoying 
the  situation  with  all  my  heart.  I  soon  discovered,  how 
ever,  an  air  of  sadness  and  restraint  which  was  unac 
countable  until  my  husband  told  me  of  the  death  of  the 
gallant  Dreux,  the  first  martyr  of  the  war.  Ah !  then 
I  knew.  Struggle  as  they  might,  their  brave  hearts  were 
wrung  with  anguish,  for  their  gallant  leader  had  suc 
cumbed  to  the  only  conqueror  he  ever  know.  The  im 
passioned  oratory  that  had  never  failed  to  fire  the  hearts 
of  men  was  hushed  forever.  The  ardent  patriotism 
ever  prompting  to  deeds  of  daring  was  now  only  a 


22  INTR  OD  UCTOR  Y. 

memory.  The  brilliant  intellect  and  administrative  abil 
ity  so  early  recognized,  so  highly  valued,  were  lost,  to 
the  Confederacy. 

I  no  longer  wondered  that  manly  brows  were  clouded, 
or  that  the  eyes  of  soldiers  moistened,  as,  even  amidst 
pleasant  conversation,  a  sudden  remembrance  of  their  loss 
overcame  them.  For  them  the  memory  of  that  death- 
scene  was  fresh.  The  echo  of  his  last  brave  words  had 
not  yet  died  away :  "  Steady,  boys,  steady,"  as  if  he 
would  have  said,  "  Let  not  my  fate  appall ;  still  do  your 
duty." 

Before  the  sun  was  high  the  ambulance  reappeared  to 
convey  our  party  as  far  as  Williamsburg,  where  young 
Little  was  to  remain  until  he  could  hear  from  his  father; 
I  and  my  boy  were  to  go  on  to  Eichmond.  My  hus 
band  was  granted  a  furlough  of  two  days  that  he  might 
escort  his  family  as  far  as  Williamsburg.  As  may  be 
imagined,  the  ride  was  most  delightful.  Although  often 
oppressed  by  thoughts  of  the  parting  hour  so  rapidly 
approaching,  we  were  at  times  charmed  into  forgetful- 
ness,  and  keen  enjoyment  of  the  beautiful  scenery  and 
the  incidents  of  the  journey.  I  now,  for  the  first  time, 
began  to  use  from  my  little  store  of  gold  and  silver,  and 
it  proved  the  "open  sesame"  to  much  enjoyment. 
Watermelons  and  other  fruit,  roasting  ears,  buttermilk, 
etc.,  were  purchased  without  stint,  also  a  chicken.  At 
noon  the  little  party  camped  in  a  grove  by  the  road 
side,  where  my  soldier-husband  proudly  showed  off  his 
new  attainments  in  the  way  of  cooking.  The  dinner 
was  pronounced  "just  splendid"  by  the  appreciative 
guests.  Our  boy  having  gorged  himself,  fell  asleep  upon 
the  grass ;  the  negro  driver  was  sent  off  to  buy  a  few 
dainties  to  send  back  to  friends  in  camp,  and  the  two  so 
lately  reunited — so  soon  to  part — enjoyed  for  the  first 
time  an  uninterrupted  talk  relating  to  the  adventures 


INTR  OD  UCTOR  Y.  23 

that  each  had  met  with  since  our  parting  in  New  Orleans. 
I  unfolded  my  plans  for  the  future,  receiving  the  full 
permission  and  sympathy  of  my  husband. 

Soon  after  the  journey  was  resumed  two  horsemen 
appeared  on  the  road  coming  from  the  direction  of 
Williamsburg.  I  was  quite  unprepared  to  recognize  a 
Confederate  officer  of  high  rank  in  either  of  the  riders 
who  now  approached,  as  neither  were  very  handsomely 
uniformed. 

Tho  one  who  most  attracted  my  attention  appeared  of 
middle  age,  was  rather  stout,  of  florid  complexion,  and 
(as  I  thought)  looked  very  cross.  He  wore  a  sort  of 
fancy  jacket  or  roundabout,  profusely  trimmed  with 
gold  lace. 

"  There  is  General  Magruder  1"  exclaimed  my  husband, 
and,  as  the  officers  came  near,  saluted.  Bringing  the 
ambulance  to  a  halt  with  an  imperious  gesture,  the 
general  sharply  questioned  him  as  to  his  absence  from 
camp,  his  name,  command,  destination,  length  of  time 
he  expected  to  be  absent,  etc.  I  was  then  introduced, 
and  began  to  express  my  pleasure  at  the  meeting,  etc. 
Tho  grim  visage  of  the  general  did  not  relax.  My 
pleasant  talk  was  cut  short  by  another  question,  this 
time,  of  importance.  I  then  found  myself  subjected  to 
a  series  of  questions  so  searching  that  all  I  had  seen  or 
heard  while  passing  through  the  enemy's  lines  was  im 
parted  to  General  Magruder  before  I  quite  realized  the 
situation. 

What  woman,  denied  the  pleasure  of  talking,  would 
not  have  felt  and  expressed,  as  did  my  discomfited  self, 
great  indignation  in  view  of  a  deprivation  so  severe. 
But  upon  being  reminded  of  the  heavy  responsibility 
resting  upon  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  patriot  who 
could  not  withdraw  his  attention  from  the  great  and 
all-absorbing  interests  committed  to  his  guidance  long 


24  INTROD  UCTOR  Y. 

enough  to  think  of,  much  less  to  practise,  the  amenities 
of  life,  I  felt  ashamed  of  my  hasty  anger,  and  remem 
bered  only  that  I  had  been  permitted  to  see  and  converse 
with  the  hero  of  the  battle  of  Bethel,  the  first  Confed 
erate  victory  of  the  war. 

At  Williamsburg,  under  the  roof  of  the  queer,  old- 
fashioned,  but  comfortable  inn,  excellent  accommodations 
were  found,  and  here  the  soldier  partook  heartily  of  the 
"  square  meals"  which  he  knew  were  his  last  for  many 
a  day. 

A  few  hours  of  happiness  was  all  that  could  be  ac 
corded  to  us.  A  battle  seemed  imminent.  My  husband 
must  return  to  his  post.  I,  with  my  little  boy,  proceeded 
to  Eichmond,  where  unbounded  kindness  and  hospitality 
awaited  me. 

Here  began  the  realization  of  the  dream  which  had 
haunted  me  while  yet  compelled  to  linger  among  the 
foes  of  the  South.  Joining  at  once  the  noble  army 
of  women  who  untiringly  ministered  to  the  sick  and 
wounded,  I  entered  upon  the  performance  of  a  vow  to 
devote  myself  to  this  work  if  only  the  opportunity  were 
accorded  me. 


MEMORIES. 


PART    I. 
CHAPTEK    I. 

ALPHA. 

Richmond  in  1861-62. 

WHO  that  witnessed  and  shared  the  wild  excitement 
which,  upon  the  days  immediately  following  the  victory 
at  Manassas,  throbbed  and  pulsated  throughout  the 
crowded  capital  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  can  ever 
forget  ? 

Men  were  beside  themselves  with  joy  and  pride, — 
drunk  with  glory. 

By  night  the  city  blazed  with  illuminations,  even  the 
most  humble  home  setting  up  its  beacon-light, — a  sure 
guide  to  where  loyal,  devoted  hearts  were  throbbing 
with  patriotism. 

In  the  general  rejoicing  the  heavy  price  of  victory 
was  for  a  time  unheeded.  But  Richmond  had  sent  forth 
to  battle  her  best  beloved,  and,  alas!  many  were  the 
"  unreturning  braves." 

The -dazzling  light  fell  upon  many  dwellings  only  to 

reveal   the   utter   darkness   that   reigned  without   and 

within.     No  need  to  ask  why.     All  knew  that  in  each 

darkened  home  stricken  hearts  filled  with  an  agony  of 

B  3  25 


26  MEMORIES. 

desolation  struggled  in  vain  to  remember  that  they  were 
mothers  and  wives  of  heroes,  but  could  not  yet  lift  their 
eyes  from  the  ghastly  wounds — the  bloody  graves  of 
their  dead. 

Ah  1  the  lovely,  joyous,  hopeful,  patriotic  days  of  that 
summer  of  1861.  The  Confederate  gray  was  then  a 
thing  of  beauty, — the  outer  garb  of  true  and  loyal  souls. 
Every  man  who  wore  it  became  ennobled  in  the  eyes  of 
every  woman.  These  boys  in  gray  were  strangers  to 
none.  Their  uniform  was  a  passport  to  every  heart  and 
every  home.  Broad  Street  was  thronged  with  them  all 
day  long. 

Officers  of  all  grades  rode  hither  and  thither,  or 
congregated  on  the  steps  of  the  hotels.  Squads  of  sol 
diers  promenaded,  gayly  chatting  with  acquaintances 
whom  they  chanced  to  meet.  Occasionally  the  sound 
of  drum  and  fife  or  the  fuller  music  of  a  brass  band 
would  herald  the  appearance  of  a  company  or  regiment, 
perhaps  just  arrived  from  some  distant  State,  eager  to 
reach  the  front.  On  more  retired  streets,  at  their  homes, 
humble  or  luxurious,  sweet  young  girls  welcomed  with 
kindly  words  and  sunny  smiles  officers  and  private  sol 
diers,  extending  equal  courtesy  to  both.  The  elegant 
mansions  on  Clay  Street  and  elsewhere  were  never 
without  soldier  guests.  Impromptu  meals  were  served 
whenever  needed.  In  elegant  dining-rooms  stately  ser 
vants  supplied  the  wants  of  soldiers.  No  one  asked  who 
they  were,  whence  they  came.  They  were  Confederate 
soldiers — that  was  quite  enough. 

In  the  cool  drawing-rooms  pleasant  chat  beguiled  the 
summer  hours,  sweet  songs  floated  out  upon  the  air,  or 
the  more  stirring  notes  of  "  Dixie"  or  "  The  Bonnie  Blue 
Flag,"  played  with  a  spirit  and  vim  which  electrified 
every  listener. 

If  these  warriors  who  lingered  here  could  have  chosen 


ALPHA.  27 

for  themselves,  they  would  never  have  thus  quietly 
rested  upon  the  laurels  won  at  Manassas.  Contrary  to 
their  wishes,  they  had  been  recalled  from  the  pursuit  of 
the  flying  foe  and  consigned  to  temporary  inactivity. 

As  the  new  companies  or  regiments  came  in  they  were 
marched  into  camp  in  the  suburds  or  temporarily  pro 
vided  for  in  the  immense  tobacco  warehouses  which  were 
numerous  all  over  the  city.  Passing  one  of  these,  at 
every  window  appeared  laughing  or  discontented  faces 
of  soldiers  newly  arrived,  full  of  ardor,  ready  and  expect 
ing  to  perform  prodigies  of  valor,  yet  ignominiously 
shut  up  within  four  brick  walls,  with  a  sentinel  guarding 
every  door. 

The  evening  drills  at  the  camp-grounds  were  attended 
by  hundreds  of  ladies.  So  enthusiastic  were  these,  so 
full  of  pride  and  admiration  for  the  braves  who  had  come 
to  defend  their  homes  and  themselves,  so  entirely  in  ac 
cord  with  the  patriotic  spirit  which  burned  in  every 
manly  heart,  that  not  a  soldier,  no  matter  how  humble, 
came  near  or  passed  before  a  group  of  these  animated 
beauties  who  was  not  literally  bathed  in  the  radiance  of 
kindly  smiles, — transformed  into  a  demigod  by  the  light 
of  gloriously  flashing  eyes. 

No  pen  can  do  justice  to  the  scenes  I  would  fain 
describe.  Language  is  quite  inadequate  to  express  the 
feeling  which  then  lived  and  had  its  being  in  the  hearts 
of  all  Southern  women  towards  the  heroes  who  had 
risen  up  to  defend  the  liberties  of  the  South.  Exalted 
far  above  mere  sentiment,  holding  no  element  of  vanity 
or  selfishness, — idolatrous,  if  you  will,  yet  an  idolatry 
which  inspired  the  heart,  nerved  the  hand,  and  made 
any  sacrifice  possible.  No  purer  patriotism  ever  found 
lodgment  in  human  breast.  No  more  sacred  fire  was 
ever  kindled  by  human  hands  on  any  altar  than  the 
impulse  which  imperatively  called  men  from  the  peaceful 


28  MEMORIES. 

avocations  of  life  to  repel  the  threatened  invasion  of 
their  homes  and  firesides.  They  were  actuated  by  no 
spirit  of  hatred  or  revenge  (then).  They  sought  not  to 
despoil,  to  lay  waste.  But,  when  justice  was  dethroned, 
her  place  usurped  by  the  demon  of  hate  and  prejudice, 
when  the  policy  of  coercion  and  invasion  was  fully  de 
veloped,  with  one  heart  and  voice  the  South  cried  aloud, 
" Stand!  The  ground's  your  own,  my  braves." 

Swift  as  a  meteor,  yet  clear  and  unwavering,  flashed 
and  burned  the  beacon-light  first  kindled  in  South  Caro 
lina.  A  million  torches  lighted  at  this  flame  were  borne 
aloft  throughout  the  Southland. 

And  now  the  invader  had  been  met  and  foiled  in  his 
first  attempt  to  conquer  and  desolate  the  homes  of  Vir 
ginia.  Who  can  wonder  that  their  brave  defenders  were 
the  idols  of  a  grateful  people  ?  Their  valor,  having  been 
fully  tested,  had  far  surpassed  the  expectations  of  the 
most  sanguine.  "Hope  told  a  flattering  tale."  Alasl 
too  flattering,  for  the  confidence  begotten  by  this  first 
success  inspired  a  contempt  for  the  foe  quite  un 
deserved. 

Meanwhile,  the  summer  sun  still  brightened  the  un 
harmed  capitol.  The  summer  wind  still  bore  aloft  on 
the  dome  in  Capitol  Square  the  flag  of  the  new  Confeder 
acy,  the  "  stars  and  bars."  Here,  after  sunset  and  in 
the  moonlight,  came  young  men  and  maidens,  matrons 
and  children.  Old  men,  too,  who,  baring  their  silvery 
heads  to  the  cool  breeze,  gazed  upward  at  the  bonnie 
flag,  with  a  look  half  triumphant,  half  sad ;  for  the  love 
of  the  "  star-spangled  banner"  had  grown  with  their 
growth  and  strengthened  with  their  strength,  and  it  had 
been  hard  to  tear  it  from  their  hearts. 

To  young  eyes  the  new  flag  seemed  an  emblem  of 
glory.  Young  hearts  glowed  with  pride  as  often  as  they 
looked  upon  it.  The  story  of  the  eventful  hour  when  it 


ALPHA.  29 

first  replaced  the  "  stars  and  stripes"  and  floated  over 
the  capitol  building  in  full  view  of  the  whole  city,  hailed 
by  acclamations  from  many  thousand  voices,  is  still  told 
with  pride  by  the  citizens  of  Richmond. 

The  moment  it  was  known  that  Virginia  had  passed 
the  ordinance  of  secession,  the  cheering,  enthusiastic 
crowd  which  had  for  hours  surrounded  Mechanics' 
Institute,  made  a  rush  for  the  State-House  to  "haul 
down"  the  old  flag,  and  run  up  the  "  stars  and  bars." 
Upon  making  the  attempt,  it  was  found  impossible  to 
move  the  United  States  flag,  some  one  having  either 
nailed  or  driven  it  with  staples  to  the  staff.  Two  boys, 
burning  with  zeal,  started  for  the  cupola  to  cut  loose  the 
flag.  One  of  these,  although  a  lad  of  eighteen,-  was  a 
member  of  the  Eichmond  Howitzers.  Hoping  to  out 
strip  the  other,  he  climbed  hand  over  hand  up  the  light 
ning-rod.  Just  as  he  reached  the  goal  of  his  ambition, 
however,  the  staples  securing  the  rod  pulled  out  and  the 
boy  was  left  swaying  back  and  forth  in  mid-air,  while 
the  crowd  upon  the  top  of  the  capitol  and  on  the  ground 
below  looked  on  in  horror.  The  lightning-rod  was  one 
of  the  old-fashioned  sort,  and  more  than  an  inch  in 
diameter.  One  after  another  the  staples  gave  way  under 
the  weight.  The  rod  swayed  gently  back  and  forth  as 
if  uncertain  which  way  to  fall,  but  finally  lurching  to 
wards  the  up-town  side.  Every  one  expected  that  the 
lad  would  be  so  disconcerted  and  appalled  when  he 
struck  the  edge  of  the  roof,  that  he  would  be  unable  to 
look  out  for  his  own  safety.  One  of  the  party  resolved 
to  attempt  a  rescue,  although  by  so  doing  his  own  life 
would  be  endangered.  Throwing  himself  flat  on  the 
roof  like  a  bat,  he  slid  down  headforemost  to  the  gutter, 
which,  fortunately,  was  very  wide.  Placing  himself  on 
his  back  in  this  gutter  so  as  to  be  able  to  arrest  the  other 
poor  boy  in  his  fall,  he  waited  until  the  lightning-rod 

3* 


30  MEMORIES. 

struck  the  roof,  then  called  out  loudly,  "Let  go;  I'll 
catch  you."  The  boy  obeyed,  and  as  he  slipped  down 
the  roof  in  an  almost  unconscious  condition,  his  rescuer 
in  the  gutter  grasped  and  held  him  until  he  recovered 
his  self-possession,  when  both  pulled  off  their  shoes  and 
climbed  the  steep  roof  to  the  skylight.  Both  boys  were 
gallant  soldiers,  but  perhaps  neither  was  ever  again  in 
greater  danger  than  when  excess  of  patriotism  cost  the 
one  that  hazardous  ride  on  the  lightning-rod,  the  other 
to  assume  the  equally  dangerous  but  noble  position  of 
rescuer. 

Both  are  still  living, — veterans  now.  One,  occupying 
a  position  of  honor  and  of  public  trust,  is  a  personal 
friend  of  the  writer. 

To  me  the  Confederate  flag  was.  an  object  of  profound 
love  and  passionate  devotion.  It  represented  hopes  that 
I  thought  could  never  fail,  possibilities  so  glorious  that 
imagination  was  dazzled.  I  used  to  go  to  the  square 
before  sunrise,  leading  my  little  boy,  trying  vainly  to 
make  him  understand  and  share  in  some  degree  my  own 
enthusiasm,  but  instead  he  only  busied  himself  in  trying 
to  steal  near  enough  to  pounce  upon  one  of  the  many 
little  birds  flitting  from  spray  to  spray  with  happy  songs. 
Approaching  the  beautiful  monument  where  the  statues 
are  so  lifelike  as  to  appear  real  companions,  sentient 
and  cognizant  of  one's  presence,  I  chose  always  a  seat 
where  I  could  gaze  upon  the  face  of  Patrick  Henry, 
recalling  his  stirring  words,  trying  to  imagine  what  he 
would  have  thought  and  said  now,  and  almost  daring,  to 
wish  that  soul  of  fire  might  come,  if  only  for  a  moment, 
to  animate  the  cold  form ;  that  the  silent  lips  might 
speak,  the  eyes  look  upward  to  where  the  breeze  of 
morning  stirred  the  sacred  flag  which  my  own  heart 
saluted.  Lingering  thus  until  the  first  rays  of  the 
sun  came  to  glorify  its  waving  folds,  I  drank  in  deep 


ALPHA.  31 

draughts  of  patriotism  and  love  for  the  holy  cause, 
sweet,  inspiring,  elevating;  a  tonic  powerful  and  last 
ing  in  its  effects,  bracing  mind  and  soul  to  persevere  in 
the  course  I  had  marked  out  for  myself,  to  tread  unfal 
teringly  a  path  beset  by  difficulties  then  undreamed  of. 
Not  long  afterward  the  capitol  square  became  forever 
sacred  to  Southern  hearts ;  for  here,  standing  upon  the 
steps  of  the  beautiful  monument,  beneath  the  bronze 
statue  of  George  Washington,  the  first  President  of  the 
Southern  Confederacy  took  upon  himself  the  solemn  vows 
of  office,  and  at  the  same  time  the  stirring  airs  of  "  Dixie" 
and  "The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag"  received  the  stamp  of 
nationality.  Ah!  then  how  overwhelming  the  applause. 
But  no  one  dreamed  of  a  time  in  the  far  future  when 
the  Southern  Confederacy  should  have  become  a  thing 
of  the  past;  of  a  time  when  the  -first  faint  notes  of 
"  Dixie"  would  have  power  to  sway  the  hearts  of  thou 
sands,  to  turn  quiet  crowds  into  excited,  surging  masses 
of  men  who  would  rend  the  air  with  cheers  and  the  dear 
old  "rebel  yell,"  of  women  who,  unable  to  control  their 
feelings,  would  testify  by  applauding  hands,  waving 
handkerchiefs,  and  streaming  eyes  how  precious  were 
the  memories  awakened. 

One  moonlight  evening  I  stood  again  before  the  statue 
of  that  grand  patriot  and  statesman,  Patrick  Henry.  My 
companions  were  Mrs.  Frances  Gawthmey,  of  Eichmond, 
and  Commodore  Matthew  F.  Maury,  a  man  whom  the 
scientific  world  delighted  to  honor,  and  of  whom  it  may 
be  well  said,  "  We  ne'er  shall  look  upon  his  like  again." 
When  Virginia  cast  her  fortunes  with  the  Southern 
Confederacy,  he  held  a  distinguished  position  under  the 
United  States  Government.  Had  he  sought  self-aggran 
dizement,  renown,  the  fullest  recognition  of  valuable 
services  to  the  Government,  the  way  was  open,  the 
prospect  dazzling.  But  he  was  not  even  tempted.  Be- 


32  MEMORIES. 

loved  voices  called  him, — the  voices  of  love  and  duty. 
He  listened,  obeyed,  laying  at  the  feet  of  the  new  Con 
federacy  as  loyal  a  heart  as  ever  beat, — a  resplendent 
genius,  the  knowledge  which  is  power. 

In  the  days  of  my  childhood  I  had  known  Captain 
Maury,  and  had  been  taught  to  revere  him.  When  we 
met  in  Richmond,  Commodore  Maury  was  still  my  friend 
and  mentor.  His  kindly  offices  were  mine  whenever 
needed,  and  his  care  followed  me  through  all  vicissi 
tudes,  until,  after  many  months,  the  varying  fortunes 
of  war  separated  us,  never,  alas !  to  meet  again  in  this 
world. 

On  the  evening  referred  to  above,  Mrs.  G-awtbmey  and 
myself,  escorted  by  Commodore  Maury,  passed  through 
the  square  on  our  way  to  the  hotel,  where  we  expected 
to  meet  a  brilliant -circle  of  distinguished  Southerners. 
Arrived  in  front  of  the  monument,  we  paused  involun 
tarily.  The  same  thoughts  which  had  before  come  to  me 
seemed  to  possess  all  our  minds.  Mrs.  Gawthmey  re 
marked,  "  If  Patrick  Henry  had  been  living,  I  reckon 
Virginia  would  have  stepped  out  of  the  Union  side  by 
side  with  South  Carolina."  "  Well,"  replied  Commodore 
Maury,  "  he  would  have  acted  as  he  thought.  There 
would  have  been  no  '  pros  and  cons,'  and  his  irresistible 
eloquence  would  have  carried  all  before  it."  Then  bar 
ing  his  head,  while  the  moonlight  seemed  to  glorify  his 
grand  intellectual  countenance,  he  repeated  a  portion  of 
that  grand  oration  of  Mr.  Henry  ending,  "  Give  me  lib 
erty  or  give  me  death."  As  these  immortal  words  fell 
from  his  lips  all  remained  silent,  though  wrought  up  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  patriotic  excitement.  After  a  mo 
ment  we  walked  on  very  quietly,  until,  passing  out  of 
the  mellow  moonlight,  we  entered  the  brilliantly-lighted 
parlors  of  the  Spottswood  Hotel. 

The  hum  of  conversation,  the  sound  of  careless,  happy 


ALPHA.  33 

laughter,  the  music  of  a  band  playing  outside,  soon 
brought  us  down  from  the  heights  of  enthusiasm  to  the 
delightful  realities  of  the  present.  For,  spite  of  battle 
and  death  and  perplexities,  even  certain  trouble  ahead, 
Eichmond  was  gay,  hopeful,  and  "all  went  merry  as  a 
marriage  bell."  The  gaunt  spectres  of  privation,  want, 
disease,  death,  of  ruined  homes,  starving  families,  and 
universal  desolation,  were  shadows  which  fled  before  the 
legions  of  hope  pressing  so  gladly  and  gayly  to  the  front. 
Here  in  one  corner  laughing  girls  bewitched  and  held  in 
thrall  young  soldier  boys, — willing  captives, — yet  meet 
ing  the  glances  of  bright  eyes  with  far  less  courage  than 
they  had  shown  while  facing  the  guns  upon  the  battle 
field.  Thrilling  tales  of  the  late  battle  were  poured  into 
credulous  ears :  "  We  were  here.  We  were  there.  We 
were  everywhere.  Our  company  accomplished  wonder 
ful  deeds  of  valor ;"  and  if  Beauty's  smile  be  indeed  a  fit 
reward,  truly  these  young  heroes  received  it. 

Our  party  exchanged  greetings  with  several  groups, 
seating  ourselves  at  last  within  the  brilliant  circle  sur 
rounding  Judge  and  Mrs.  Hopkins,  of  Alabama.  Here 
were  several  ladies,  wives  of  distinguished  officers  in  the 
Confederate  service,  members  of  the  Cabinet,  and  others, 
and  splendid-looking  officers  in  handsome  uniforms  were 
constantly  coming  and  going,  exchanging  courteous 
greetings,  lingering  for  a  few  moments  in  conversation, 
grave  or  gay.  Here,  perhaps,  a  stately  form  strode  up 
and  down  the  large  rooms  so  engrossed  in  thought  as  to 
be  regardless  of  all  that  was  passing.  There,  in  deep 
converse,  stood  a  group  equally  regardless  of  their  sur 
roundings,  whose  grave  faces  and  earnest  questions 
showed  the  importance  of  the  subject  under  discussion. 
Among  those  who  upon  that  evening  and  afterward, 
"  many  a  time  and  oft,"  were  met  together  in  those 
brilliant  rooms  there  was  not  one  heart  untouched  by 


34  MEMORIES. 

the  fire  of  patriotism, — a  flame  fed  by  every  thought, 
word,  and  action,  burning  ever  with  steadily-increasing 
brightness. 

I  fail  to  recall  many  of  the  illustrious  names  which  on 
that  night  sounded  like  stirring  music  in  my  ears;  but 
as  often  as  memory  reverts  to  that  scene,  the  forerunner 
of  repeated  pleasures,  I  seem  to  feel  anew  the  pressure 
of  friendly  hands,  unforgotten  faces  appear  through  the 
mists  of  the  past,  still  aglow  with  "  the  light  of  other 
days." 

Judge  Hopkins  was  rather  an  invalid,  but  his  high 
position,  fine  appearance,  his  pleasant  conversational 
powers,  marked  him  as  one  worthy  of  attention  from 
all. 

To  Mrs.  Hopkins  had  been  entrusted  the  duty  of 
caring  for  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers  from  Alabama. 
Two  State  hospitals  had  already  been  established  by 
her,  and  she  had  full  power  to  control  all  matters  con 
nected  with  these  hospitals,  except  such  as  came  within 
the  province  of  the  surgeon  in  charge. 

1  have  never  seen  a  woman  better  fitted  for  such  a 
work.  Energetic,  tireless,  systematic,  loving  profoundly 
the  cause  and  its  defenders,  she  neglected  no  detail  of 
business  or  other  thing  that  could  afford  aid  or  comfort 
to  the  sick  or  wounded.  She  kept  up  a  voluminous  cor 
respondence,  made  in  person  every  purchase  for  her 
charges,  received  and  accounted  for  hundreds  of  boxes 
sent  from  Alabama  containing  clothing  and  delicacies  for 
the  sick,  and  visited  the  wards  of  the  hospitals  every 
day.  If  she  found  any  duty  neglected  by  nurse  or  sur 
geon  or  hospital  steward,  her  reprimand  was  certain  and 
very  severe.  She  could  not  nurse  the  sick  or  wounded 
personally,  for  her  whole  time  was  necessarily  devoted 
to  executive  duties,  but  her  smile  was  the  sweetest,  I 
believe,  that  ever  lit  up  a  human  face,  and  standing  by 


ALPHA.  35 

the  bedside  of  some  poor  Alabarnian,  away  from  home, 
and  wretched  as  well  as  sick,  she  must  have  seemed  to 
him  like  an  angel  visitant.  A  more  decided  woman  in 
dealing  with  all  who  came  within  her  influence  or  con 
trol  I  never  knew,  yet  she  was  kindly  withal,  though 
never  expecting  or  brooking  opposition.  To  her  hus 
band  alone  she  deferred  in  all  things,  and  was  gentleness 
itself. 

On  meeting  her  for  the  first  time  she  called  me  to  her 
side,  saying,  in  her  abrupt  way,  "  I  like  you,  you  are  so 
in  earnest ;  do  you  really  mean  to  nurse  our  sick  soldiers 
during  the  war,  as  Mr.  Maury  tells  me?"  I  replied,  as 
I  distinctly  recollect,  with  great  fervor,  "  I  do,  God  help 
ing  me." 

"  But  you  are  not  strong  enough,  and  you  are  too 
young." 

Again  I  replied,  "  I  feel  that  I  am  called  to  the  work, 
and  strength  will  be  given  me." 

She  laid  her  hand  kindly  upon  my  shoulder,  smiling 
as  she  said,  "  I  may  put  you  to  the  test  some  day ;  be 
ready." 

This  conversation  occurred  on  the  evening  of  my 
visit  to  the  hotel  with  my  friends.  On  the  way  home 
an  earnest  protest  against  my  "  quixotic  idea"  was  made 
by  both,  which  ended  in  a  truce  of  a  few  days,  during 
which  it  was  hoped  I  would  repent  and  rescind  my 
determination. 

On  the  corner  of  Clay  and  Twelfth  Streets  stood  the 
pleasant  and  commodious  residence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Booker. 

My  friend  Mrs.  Gawthmey  resided  here,  and  here  the 
greater  part  of  my  time  was  spent  when  "  off  duty" 
(of  which  more  anon). 

This  model  Virginia  household  was  so  true  a  type  of 
the  homes  of  Richmond  as  they  were  at  that  time,  that 


36  MEMORIES. 

its  description  will  present  to  the  reader  all,  for  the 
same  spirit  pervaded  every  one.  As  in  almost  every 
case,  the  young  men  of  the  family  were  in  the  Confeder 
ate  service  (the  sons  of  this  household  were  of  the 
Eichmond  Howitzers).  The  father,  in  feeble  health,  yet 
lavished  his  means  and  his  little  strength  upon  every 
patriotic  duty  which  arose.  The  mother,  far  more 
youthful,  active,  and  energetic,  full  of  enthusiasm  for 
the  cause,  exceeding  proud  of  the  brave  boys  whom  she 
had  freely  sent  out  to  battle,  loving  and  serving  all  sol 
diers  with  heart  and  hand,  was  seconded  with  equal 
ardor  and  wonderful  ability  by  her  sweet  young  daugh 
ters.  The  spare  sleeping-rooms  were  always  daintily 
prepared,  and  at  the  service  of  any  soldier  who  needed 
care  and  rest.  Soldiers  feeble  from  recent  illness  were 
encouraged  to  recline  awhile  in  restful  arm-chairs  in  the 
cool  flower-scented  parlors,  while  the  girls  often  enter 
tained  them  with  music  or  pleasant  conversation. 

Not  a  meal  was  set  in  that  house  unshared  by  one  or 
more  soldiers.  The  table  was  always  as  attractive  as 
finest  linen  damask,  elegant  china  and  glass,  and  hand 
some  silver  could  make  it.  The  meals  were  abundant 
and  nourishing,  but  plain.  Delicacies  of  all  kinds  were 
prepared  constantly  in  that  "Virginia  kitchen,"  and 
daintily  arranged  in  the  pantry  by  the  ladies'  own  hands, 
but  only  to  be  sent  to  the  sick  and  wounded  strangers 
lying  in  the  numerous  hospitals. 

Opposite  to  the  home  just  described  arose  the  spa 
cious  but  unpretentious  residence  of  President  Davis,  the 
Confederate  "  White  House"  (in  this  case  only  in  a  figu 
rative  sense,  for  the  executive  mansion  was  of  dark 
brown  stone  or  stucco).  As  nearly  as  I  can  remember, 
the  main  entrance  was  on  Clay  Street.  On  one  side  the 
windows  opened  on  Twelfth  Street,  on  the  other  lay  a 
beautiful  garden  extending  quite  to  the  edge  of  "  Shokoe 


ALPHA.  37 

Hill,"  which  overlooked  the  classic  valley  of  "  Butcher- 
town,"  through  the  midst  of  which  ran  "  Shokoe  Creek." 
The  boys  of  this  region,  from  generation  to  generation, 
had  been  renowned  for  exceeding  pugnacity.  Between 
them  and  the  city  boys  constantly-recurring  quarrels 
were  so  bitter  that  sometimes  men  were  drawn  in 
through  sympathy  with  their  boys.  The  law  seemed 
powerless  to  put  an  end  to  this  state  of  things. 

Eegular  arrangements  were  made,  definite  challenges 
were  given  and  accepted,  and  fights  took  place  between 
successive  sets  of  boys  as  they  grew  old  enough  to  throw 
down  or  take  up  the  gauntlet.  Eichmond  was  at  that 
time  considered  a  law-abiding  city,  and  had  only  a  few 
policemen,  whom  the  boys  found  it  easy  to  elude.  The 
appearance  of  officers  Chalkly  and  Tyler,  however, 
generally  served  to  close  the  fight  until  next  time. 

Within  the  Presidential  mansion  was  no  magnificence 
of  furniture  or  appointments, — nothing  in  the  style  of 
living  calculated  to  create  dissatisfaction  or  a  sense  of 
injustice  in  the  minds  of  those  who,  equally  with  their 
chosen  leader,  had  already  sacrificed  much,  and  were 
willing  to  give  their  all  to  the  cause.  No  pomp  and 
circumstance  chilled  loyal  hearts. 

Jefferson  Davis,  the  statesman  to  whose  wisdom  had 
been  entrusted  the  destinies  of  the  South ;  the  patriot 
who  merged  his  ambition,  his  hopes,  himself,  in  his  de 
votion  to  the  right ;  the  Christian,  who  humbly  committed 
his. ways  unto  the  Lord,  whose  dignity  enhanced  pros 
perity,  whose  fortitude  conquered  adversity, — Jefferson 
Davis,  the  chosen  exponent  of  undying  principles,  was 
yet  in  his  own  house  simply  a  Southern  gentleman, — a 
kindly,  genial  host,  extending  genuine  hospitality  to  all. 

Of  Mrs.  Davis  my  recollections  are  very  pleasant. 
Always  meeting  from  her  a  cordial  reception,  admiring 
the  unaffected  courtesy  which  put  her  visitors  at  their 

4 


38  MEMORIES. 

ease,  I  yet  became  distinctly  conscious  that  in  her  the 
feelings  of  wife  and  mother  were  stronger  than  any 
other ;  that  no  matter  into  what  station  of  life  it  should 
please  God  to  call  her,  devotion  to  these  womanly  duties 
would  be  paramount. 

From  the  very  first  there  was  among  the  people  of 
the  South  an  earnest  dependence  upon  God,  a  habit  of 
appeal  to  His  mercy  and  loving-kindness,  and  a  marked 
attention  to  religious  duties.  On  Sundays  the  churches 
were  crowded  with  devout  worshippers.  Every  service 
was  attended  by  more  or  less  Confederate  soldiers,  gen 
erally  in  squads,  but  sometimes  even  in  companies,  mar 
shalled  by  some  of  their  officers. 

The  first  Sunday  after  my  arrival  in  Eichmond,  kneel 
ing  in  St.  James's  Church,  I  heard  for  the  first  time  the 
changed  prayer  for  the  "  President  of  the  Confederate 
States  and  all  others  in  authority."  A  death-like  silence 
prevailed  during  the  most  solemn  and  impressive  read 
ing  of  the  prayer.  Then  from  every  mouth  welled  forth 
a  fervent,  heartfelt  "Amen  1"  The  earnest,  manly  voices 
of  the  soldiers  added  depth  and  volume  to  the  sound 
which  thrilled  every  pulse  of  one's  being.  It  did  not 
seem  to  us  that  we  were  merely  going  through  a  form 
of  prayer  for  one  of  u  those  in  high  places,"  but  that  our 
President  was  one  of  ourselves,  and  all  hearts  went  out 
toward  him,  earnestly  desiring  for  him  heaven's  choicest 
blessings, — the  all- wise  guidance  he  was  so  sure  to  need. 

Scattered  all  over  the  city  in  many  a  shady  nook  were 
cosey,  pleasant  retreats,  where  wounded  or  sick  soldiers 
were  gladly  welcomed, — private  hospitals  presided  over 
by  ladies,  sustained  by  their  constant  attention  and  un 
bounded  liberality.  One  lady  generally  had  direction  of 
the  affairs  of  one  particular  hospital,  assisted  by  others 
whose  duties  lay  just  there,  and  who  devoted  each  in 
turn  on  successive  days  their  entire  care  and  attention 


ALPHA.  39 

to  this  labor  of  love.  For  instance,  on  Monday  certain 
ladies  sent  in  all  the  cooked  food  needed  by  the  patients. 
Others  personally  nursed  the  sick.  Still  others  attended 
to  the  distribution  of  the  food  or  superintended  the  sei'- 
vants,  and  so  with  all  duties  required.  On  Tuesday 
another  set  of  ladies  were  on  duty,  and  so  on. 

My  whole  heart  and  soul  went  out  toward  the  sick 
soldiers.  My  days  were  mostly  spent  in  visiting  the 
hospitals. 

At  first  the  larger  ones  attracted  me,  because  there 
seemed  to  be  so  many  sufferers  and  more  need  of  nurses. 
My  timid  advances  (never  amounting  to  a  direct  ap 
plication,  but  only  a  suggestion  as  to  my  qualifications 
as  a  nurse)  were  condescendingly  smiled  down  by  the 
surgeons  in  charge.  My  youthful  appearance  was-against 
me.  Besides,  there  really  was  no  need  for  other  nursing 
in  many  of  the  State  hospitals,  notably  that  of  Louisi 
ana,  than  the  angelic  ministrations  of  the  Sisters  of 
Charity,  whose  tireless  vigils  knew  no  end,  whose  skill 
and  efficiency,  as  well  as  their  constant  devotion,  envi 
roned  the  patients  committed  to  their  care.  Occasionally 
I  was  allowed  the  blessed  privilege  of  fanning  a  sick 
hero  or  of  moistening  parched  lips  or  bathing  fevered 
brows.  But  somebody  always  came  whose  business  it 
was  to  do  these  things,  and  I  was  set  aside.  One  day, 
however,  by  a  happy  chance,  I  found  in  a  ward  of  one 
of  the  hospitals  a  poor  fellow  who  seemed  to  have  been 
left  to  die.  So  forlorn,  so  feeble,  so  near  death  did  he 
seem,  that  my  heart  yearned  over  him,  for  he  was  only 
a  boy,  and  I  knew  he  was  some  mother's  darling.  He 
had,  like  many  other  soldiers,  been  unwilling  to  go  to  a 
hospital,  and  remaining  in  camp  while  broken  out  with 
measles,  took  cold  and  provoked  an  attack  of  pneumonia. 
In  addition  to  this,  terrible  abscesses  had  formed  under 
each  ear,  and  his  eyes  were  swollen  and  suppurating.  His 


40  MEMORIES. 

surgeon  said  there  was  little  hope  of  his  recovery ;  none 
at  all  unless  he  could  be  removed  to  some  more  quiet 
place,  and  receive  unremitting  care  and  watchfulness  as 
well  as  excellent  nursing.  "Can  he  be  removed  if  I 
promise  to  fulfil  all  these  conditions  ?"  said  I.  "  It  is  a 

risk,  but  his  only  chance,"  replied  Dr. .  "  Then  I 

will  go  at  once  and  prepare  a  place."  As  I  spoke,  the 
suffering  boy  grasped  my  hand  with  all  his  feeble 
strength,  as  if  afraid  to  let  me  leave  him.  Reassuring 
him  as  well  as  I  could,  I  rushed  off  to  the  "Soldiers' 
Eest,"  where  I  knew  I  should  find  friends  ready  and 
willing  to  help  me.  My  tale  was  soon  told  to  the  ladies 
in  charge,  who  at  once  and  with  all  their  hearts  entered 
into  my  plans.  One  vacant  cot  temptingly  clean  and 
white  was  moved  into  a  secluded  corner  and  assigned  to 
me  for  the  use  of  my  "  sick  boy."  The  loan  of  an  am 
bulance,  readily  obtained,  facilitated  his  removal.  That 
same  evening  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  laid 
carefully  upon  the  comfortable  bed  so  kindly  prepared 
by  the  ladies  of  the  Soldiers'  Best,  exhausted,  but  evi 
dently  not  worse  for  the  change. 

Right  here  began  my  career  as  a  nurse  of  Confederate 
soldiers.  This  was  my  first  patient, — my  very  own, — to 
have  and  to  hold  until  the  issues  of  life  and  death  should 
be  decided.  .  All  facilities  were  accorded  me  by  the  ladies. 
Dr.  Little  gave  his  most  careful  attention  and  his  greatest 
skill,  but  the  nursing,  the  responsibility,  was  mine. 

I  may  as  well  state  that  I  came  off  with  flying  colors, 
earning  the  precious  privilege,  so  ardently  desired,  of 
being  enrolled  among  those  ready  for  duty  and  to  be 
trusted.  My  patient  recovered,  and  returned  to  his 

command,  the Mississippi  Regiment.  His  name  was 

D.  Babers,  and  twenty  years  after  the  war  I  met  him 
once  more, — a  stalwart,  bearded  man,  as  unlike  as  possi 
ble  the  pale  young  soldier  who  had  lived -in  my  memory. 


ALPHA.  41 

His  delight  and  gratitude  and  that  of  his  family  seemed 
unbounded,  and  so  I  found  the  bread  once  cast  upon  the 
waters  very  sweet  when  returned  to  me  "  after  many 
days." 

Finding  that  my  desultory  wanderings  among  the 
larger  hospitals  were  likely  to  result  in  little  real  useful 
ness,  and  that  the  ladies  attached  to  the  Soldiers'  Rest 
would  be  glad  of  my  help,  I  became  a  regular  attendant 
there.  This  delightful  place  of  refuge  for  the  sick  and 
wounded  was  situated  high  up  on  Clay  Street,  not  very 
far  from  one  of  the  camps  and  parade-grounds.  A  rough 
little  school-house,  it  had  been  transformed  into  a  bower 
of  beauty  and  comfort  by  loving  hands.  The  walls, 
freshly  whitewashed,  were  adorned  with  attractive 
pictures.  The  windows  were  draped  with  snowy  cur 
tains  tastefully  looped  back  to  admit  the  summer  breeze 
or  carefully  drawn  to  shade  the  patient,  as  circumstances 
required.  The  beds  were  miracles  of  whiteness,  and 
clean  linen  sheets,  in  almost  every  case,  draped  and 
covered  them.  Softest  pillows  in  slips  of  odorous  linen 
supported  the  restless  heads  of  the  sick.  By  the  side 
of  each  cot  stood  a  small  table  (one  or  two  old-fashioned 
stands  of  solid  mahogany  among  them).  Upon  these 
were  spread  fine  napkins.  Fruit,  drinks,  etc.,  were  set 
upon  them,  not  in  coarse,  common  crockery,  but  in 
delicate  china  and  glass.  Nothing  was  too  good  for  the 
soldiers.  The  school-house  contained  three  rooms.  The 
school-room  proper  was  quite  large,  and  here  were  ranged 
about  thirty  beds.  One  of  the  recitation-rooms  was  set 
apart  for  patients  who  might  need  special  attention  or 
seclusion.  The  other  was  occupied  by  the  ladies  whose 
duty  it  was  to  receive  and  distribute  the  delicate  and 
nutritious  supplies  of  food  which  unfailingly  arrived  at 
stated  hours,  borne  by  aristocratic-looking  colored  ser 
vants,  on  silver  waiters  or  in  baskets  covered  with  snowy 

4* 


42  MEMORIES. 

damask.  During  every  hour  of  the  day,  gentle  women 
ministered  untiringly  to  the  sick.  They  woke  from 
fevered  dreams  to  behold  kindly  faces  bending  above 
them,  to  feel  the  touch  of  soft  hands,  to  receive  the  cool 
ing  draught  or  welcome  food.  Every  evening  brought 
carriage-loads  of  matrons  and  young  girls  laden  with 
flowers  or  fruit,  bringing  books,  and,  better  than  all, 
smiles  and  pleasant  words.  The  sick  soldiers  were  ob 
jects  of  interest  to  all.  All  hearts  yearned  over  them, 
all  hands  were  ready  to  serve  them.  As  night  came  on, 
the  ladies  who  had  served  during  the  day  were  replaced 
by  others.  No  one  ever  failed  to  meet  her  self-imposed 
duties.  No  patient  was  for  a  moment  neglected. 

I  cannot  recall  the  names  of  all  the  ladies  who  at 
tended  at  the  Soldiers'  Eest.  Those  whom  I  knew 
best  were  Mrs.  Gawthmey,  Mrs.  Booker,  Mrs.  Grant, 
Miss  Catherine  Poitreaux,  Mrs.  Edmond  Ruffin,  and 
Miss  Susan  Watkins. 

A  few  steps  below,  between  Ninth  and  Tenth  Streets, 
was  another  private  hospital,  similar  in  almost  every 
respect  to  the  one  just  described,  organized  and  presided 
over  by  Mrs.  Caroline  Mayo.  She  also  was  assisted  by 
several  ladies,  but  had  entire  direction,  and  threw  her 
self  into  the  work  with  all  her  soul.  Her  patriotism 
was  boundless,  her  courage  and  endurance  unfailing. 
Not  only  at  that  time,  but  for  three  years,  every  hour 
of  her  time,  every  thought  of  her  heart,  was  given  to 
the  sick  and  wounded  Confederates. 

Sometimes,  alas!  the  care  and  nursing  lavished  upon 
the  sick  was  unavailing.  Death  often  invaded  the 
"  Rest."  In  every  case  the  rites  of  burial  were  accorded. 
"Women  remembered  tenderly  the  far-distant  mother  or 
wife,  and  therefore  honored  their  dead. 

For  a  few  days  after  my  patient  had  ceased  to  need 
special  nursing  I  continued  to  serve  with  the  ladies 


ALPHA.  43 

attached  to  the  little  hospital  on  Clay  Street,  still  long 
ing,  however,  for  a  larger  sphere  of  usefulness. 

One  morning,  just  as  I  had  arrived  there  and  was  pre 
paring  to  begin  my  daily  duties,  a  carriage  stopped  at 
the  door,  from  which  Mrs.  Judge  Hopkins  descended, 
and,  hastily  entering  the  hospital,  announced  to  the 
ladies  that  she  had  "  come  for  Mrs.  Seers"  They 
strongly  demurred,  and  I  felt  at  first  great  hesitation  in 
obeying  so  hasty  a  summons.  But  Mrs.  Hopkins  was 
very  much  in  earnest.  "  Indeed,  you  must  come,"  said 
she,  "for  I  have  great  need  of  you.  A  large  number 
of  sick  and  wounded  Alabamians  will  arrive  this  morn 
ing.  I  have  found  a  place  to  put  them,  but  some  one 
must  be  there  to  prepare  for  their  accommodation,  to 
receive  hospital  supplies,  and  direct  their  arrangement, 
while  I  make  purchases  and  attend  to  other  matters. 
Come,"  holding  out  both  hands  towards  me ;  "  no  hireling 
can  fill  the  place.  Come,  now,  with  me:  we  have  no 
time  to  lose."  I  hesitated  no  longer,  but  entered  the 
carriage.  We  were  at  once  driven  down-town,  stopping 

to  order  cots,  mattresses,  etc.,  then  to  the  corner  of 

and  Streets,  where  stood  an  immense  tobacco 

factory,  owned  by  Messrs.  Turpin  &  Yarborough. 

Arrived  here,  a  pitiful  sight  met  our  eyes.  Perhaps 
fifty  sick  men  had  arrived  unexpectedly,  and  were  sit 
ting  or  lying  about  in  every  conceivable  position  ex 
pressive  of  feebleness,  extreme  illness,  utter  exhaustion. 
Mr.  Yarborough,  having  given  up  the  keys  to  Mrs.  Hop 
kins,  was  impatiently  pacing  in  and  out  among  the 
prostrate  men.  Coming  upon  this  scene,  both  Mrs. 
Hopkins  and  myself  at  once  realized  all  that  lay  before 
us,  and  braced  our  nerves  to  meet  the  emergency. 

The  men  were  soon  under  shelter,  but  no  beds  had 
yet  arrived.  Mrs.  Hopkins  led  me  into  the  factory,  in 
troduced  me  to  Dr.  Clark,  who  had  come  to  take  charge 


44  MEMORIES. 

as  surgeon,  and  placed  me  under  him  at  the  head  of 
affairs  as  her  deputy.  A  corps  of  nurses,  hastily  sum 
moned,  were  ordered  to  report  to  me. 

Meantime  immense  boxes  arrived  from  the  depot,  sent 
by  the  people  of  Alabama.  These  contained  pillows, 
comforts,  sheets,  as  well  as  wines,  cordials,  and  every 
delicacy  for  the  sick,  also  quantities  of  shirts,  drawers, 
and  socks,  old  and  new.  The  boxes  were  wrenched  open, 
pillows  phiced  quickly  under  the  heads  of  the  sickest,  and 
cordials  administered.  As  the  beds  came  in  they  were 
placed,  made  up,  and  the  worst  cases  first,  others  after 
ward,  were  transferred  to  them,  until  all  were  lying 
comfortably  between  clean  sheets  and  clad  in  clean 
shirts  and  drawers.  There  was  no  lack  of  food,  both 
substantial  and  of  a  kind  proper  for  the  very  sick. 

I  do  not  believe  that  a  squad  of  sick  soldiers  arrived 
in  Eichmond,  at  least  during  the  first  year  of  the  war, 
who  were  not  discovered  and  bountifully  fed  shortly 
after  their  arrival.  In  this  case  waiter  after  waiter  of 
food  was  sent  in,  first  from  the  house  of  Mr.  Yarborough 
and  afterward  by  all  the  neighborhood.  Hospital  sup 
plies  having  been  ordered  as  soon  as  it  was  known  the 
sick  men  were  expected,  all  necessaries  were  soon  at 
hand,  while  the  boxes  referred  to  supplied  many  luxu 
ries.  The  large  room  into  which  all  these  were  huddled 
presented  for  days  a  scene  of  "confusion  worse  con 
founded."  The  contents  of  two  of  the  largest  boxes  were 
dumped  upon  the  floor,  the  boxes  themselves  serving, 
one  as  a  table  for  the  drugs,  the  other  as  a  sort  of  coun 
ter  where  the  druggist  quickly  compounded  prescrip 
tions,  which  the  surgeons  as  hastily  seized  and  personally 
administered.  Carpenters  were  set  at  work;  but  of 
course  shelves,  etc.,  could  not  be  magically  produced,  so 
we  placed  boards  across  barrels,  arranging  in  piles  the 
contents  of  the  boxes  for  ready  use. 


ALPHA.  45 

Mrs.  Hopkins,  sitting  upon  a  box,  directed  these  mat 
ters,  while  I  had  my  hands  full  attending  to  the  poor 
fellows  in  the  wards  where  they  had  been  placed. 

Four  of  our  sick  died  that  night.  I  had  never  in  my 
life  witnessed  a  death-scene  before,  and  had  to  fight  hard 
to  keep  down  the  emotion  which  would  have  greatly 
impaired  my  usefulness. 

At  the  end  of  a  long,  large  wing  of  the  factory  were 
two  excellent  rooms,  formerly  the  offices  of  the  owners. 
These  were  comfortably  fitted  up,  the  one  as  a  bedroom 
for  myself,  and  the  other  as  a  sitting-room  and  private 
office.  A  female  servant  was  specially  assigned  to  me, 
who  slept  on  a  mattress  on  the  floor  of  the  sitting-room, 
and  whose  duty  it  was  to  accompany  me  through  the 
wards  and  render  any  special  or  personal  service  re 
quired.  A  long  hall  ran  along  this  wing,  connecting  the 
offices  with  the  main  building.  The  long,  broad  room 
opening  out  of  this  hall  was  fitted  up  as  a  ward  specially 
mine,  for  the  reception  of  my  own  friends  and  very  ill 
patients  who  needed  my  special  attention  day  and  night. 
This  favor  was  granted  me  because  I  had  shown  some 
unwillingness  to  place  myself  in  any  position  where  I 
could  not  nurse  any  Louisiana  soldier  friends  or  others 
who  might  desire  or  be  permitted  to  come  to  me.  As 
soon  as  matters  were  somewhat  settled,  my  little  son 
joined  me  in  my  new  quarters,  and  thus  the  Third  Ala 
bama  Hospital  became  our  home  for  many  a  month. 
The  little  fellow  spent  very  little  time  there,  however. 
My  Eichmond  friends  never  lost  sight  of  me  for  one  day 
during  my  service  in  that  city.  Nearly  every  day  my 
little  boy  was  sent  for  to  play  among  happy  children, 
far  away  from  the  impure  atmosphere  of  the  hospital, 
which  was  soon  filled  with  patients  suffering  from  almost 
every  form  of  disease. 

As  the  demand  for  more  room  became  pressing,  the 


46  MEMORIES. 

three  stories  of  the  main  building  were  successively  util 
ized,  as  well  as  a  largo  storage-room  in  the  yard.  The 
ground-floor  contained  the  surgeons'  and  steward's  of 
fices,  store-rooms,  etc.,  while  the  second  and  third  formed 
two  immense  sick-wards.  The  first  floor  of  the  long 
wing  before  mentioned  was  occupied  by  the  kitchen 
and  sleeping  apartments  for  servants. 

Mrs.  Hopkins  and  I  thought  exactly  alike  regarding 
the  disposition  of  the  delicacies  continuously  sent  from 
all  points  in  Alabama  for  the  sick  and  wounded.  None 
but  the  sick  should  have  them.  Nothing  but  the  simple 
though  plentiful  rations  were  ever  served  at  the  meals, 
which  the  resident  surgeons  and  druggists  shared  with 
me.  Yet,  by  the  never-ceasing  kindness  of  friends  out 
side,  I  was  well  supplied  with  luxuries  enough  for  my 
self,  and  to  share  with  my  messmates  each  day. 

Having  the  care  and  responsibility  of  so  many  sick,  my 
time  was  fully  occupied.  I  seldom  went  out.  I  could 
not  stop  to  talk  to  visitors,  but  often  led  kind  ladies  to 
the  bedsides  of  those  whom  I  knew  would  enjoy  and  be 
benefited  by  their  bright  presence  and  kindly  words,  as 
well  as  by  their  offerings  of  flowers,  fruit,  or  dainties. 

Amid  disease  and  suffering,  battling  always  with  death 
(too  often,  alas!  the  conqueror),  I  was  yet  happy  and 
content.  The  surgeons  were  skilful  and  devoted ;  the 
means  at  hand  to  supply  the  wants,  even  the  caprices  of 
my  patients,  as  soon  as  expressed. 

I  loved  very  dearly  these  heroes  whom  I  served,  and 
felt  that  I  was  as  well  beloved.  "Welcoming  smiles,  eager 
greetings,  grateful  words,  blessed  me  as  unfailingly  as 
the  sunlight  and  dew  the  earth.  Every  hour  of  toil 
brought  its  own  rich  reward.  These  were  Confederate 
soldiers.  God  had  permitted  me  to  work  for  the  holy 
cause.  This  was  enough  to  flood  my  whole  being  with 
content  and  deepest  gratitude. 


ALPHA.  47 

Next  to  Commodore  Maury  one  of  my  most  faithful 
friends  was  Dr.  Little,  of  Kichmond.  He  was  surgeon 
of  the  Soldiers'  Best,  and  also  attended  the  sick  soldiers 
at  many  private  houses  in  the  city  and  at  some  of  the 
larger  hospitals. 

Small  in  stature,  in  extremely  delicate  health,  he  was 
yet  a  giant  as  far  as  skill  and  work  were  concerned. 
An  earnest  Christian,  a  polished  gentleman,  of  quiet  and 
unassuming  yet  elegant  manners,  interesting  in  conver 
sation,  a  true,  firm  friend,  an  unflinching  patriot,  what 
more  could  be  added  to  indicate  an  almost  perfect  char 
acter?  His  care  and  watchfulness,  combined  with  rare 
skill, — directed  by  the  All-merciful  Father, — saved  the 
life  of  my  little  boy,  who  was  brought  to  death's  door  by 
an  attack  of  typhoid  fever  during  the  fall  of  1861. 

Meantime,  as  the  months  rolled  on,  it  became  evident 
that  the  victory  at  Manassas  could  not  be  considered  as 
a  criterion  of  future  success.  Everywhere  there  was 
fighting.  Varying  fortune  attended  the  Confederate 
urms.  ZJwvarying  glory,  unsurpassed,  magnificent 
bravery  so  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  nation  that  none 
saw  or  admitted  defeat  anywhere.  Yet  valuable  terri 
tory  had  been  surrendered.  Homeless  refugees  flocked 
into  Eichmond,  but  even  these  were  hopeful  and  defiant, 
almost  proud  of  their  early  martyrdom,  ready  to  serve 
the  cause  by  "  doing  all  their  bands  found  to  do  with 
their  might." 

If  anything  had  been  needed  to  inspire  hope,  to 
arouse  patriotic  pride,  the  appearance  of  Johnston's 
army  as  it  passed  through  Eichmond  on  its  way  to  the 
Peninsula  to  foil  once  more  the  "  On-to-Eichmond" 
plans  of  the  enemy  would  have  more  than  sufficed. 

Oh,  what  days  were  those,  which  came  unheralded,  to 
write  their  history  in  letters  of  fire  upon  the  records  of 
the  city  of  Eichmond ! 


48  MEMORIES. 

General  Johnston  had  kept  his  own  counsel.  Says 
Pollard  :  "  With  such  consummate  address  was  this  move 
managed,  that  our  own  troops  had  no  idea  of  what  was 
intended  until  the  march  was  taken  up."  Soldiers  had 
been  continually  passing  through  the  city,  but  by  com 
panies  or  regiments,  each  in  its  turn  admired  and  en 
thusiastically  cheered.  Now,  when  seemingly  countless 
legions  swept  by  with  martial  tread,  their  resounding 
footsteps  and  splendid  appearance  equally  with  the  roll 
of  many  drums  and  the  clash  of  regimental  bands 
stirred  the  hearts  of  the  multitude  thronging  the  side 
walks,  crowding  every  door-way  and  gallery,  "  mount 
ing  wall  and  battlement,  yea,  even  to  chimney-top ;" 
not,  indeed,  to  see  a  "great  Csssar,"  but  to  hail  with 
wildest  delight  a  magnificent  army,  of  which  the  hum 
blest  soldier  was  a  "  greater  than  CaBsar,"  inasmuch  as 
he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of  patriotism 
all  that  the  Roman  conqueror  held  most  dear  first  of 
all, — personal  ambition. 

Among  the  crowd,  side  by  side  with  the  ladies  resi 
dent  in  Richmond,  stood  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  from 
other  Southern  States,  looking  eagerly  for  the  well- 
known  uniform  worn  by  their  own,  proudly  pointing 
them  out  as  they  passed,  even  to  utter  strangers,  sure 
of  warmest  sympathy,  following  them  with  longing  eyes 
until  they  were  lost  to  sight,  hundreds,  alas !  forever. 

Among  the  gayly-fluttering  banners  borne  proudly 
aloft  some  were  ragged  and  torn  by  shot  or  shell.  As 
each  of  these  appeared  men  shouted  themselves  hoarse, 
women  drew  shuddering  sighs  and  grew  deathly  pale, 
as  if  realizing  for  the  first  time  the  horrors  of  war  and 
the  dangers  their  loved  ones  had  passed. 

For  several  days  this  excitement  was  kept  up.  All 
night  heavy  artillery  rumbled  along  Broad  Street.  At 
any  hour  of  the  night  I  could  see  from  my  window 


ALPHA.  49 

shadowy  figures  of  mounted  men,  could  hear  the  cease 
less  tramp  of  cavalry  horses.  Every  day  the  sun  shone 
upon  the  glittering  bayonets  and  gay  flags  of  swiftly- 
passing  soldiery.  The  air  was  flooded  with  music  until 
the  last  strain  died  away,  and  the  calm  which  preceded 
a  terrible  storm  of  battle  fell  upon  the  city. 

The  glorious  scenes  of  the  past  few  days  had  en 
gendered  a  sense  of  protection  and  security.  All  felt 
that  this  splendid  army  must  prove  invincible. 

In  the  Valley  of  Virginia  brave  troops  under  Stone 
wall  Jackson  were  actively  engaged  in  keeping  the 
enemy  at  bay.  Forced  marches,  insufficient  food,  the 
want  of  tents  to  shelter  them  from  the  weather  while 
they  slept,  continually  decimated  this  army. 

The  number  of  wounded  in  our  wards  increased  daily. 
Sick  men  poured  into  the  hospital.  Often  they  came  too 
late,  having  remained  at  the  post  of  duty  until  fever  had 
sapped  the  springs  of  life  or  the  rattling  breath  sounded 
the  knell  of  hope,  marking  too  surely  that  fatal  disease, 
double  pneumonia.  Awestruck  I  watched  the  fierce 
battle  for  life,  the  awful  agony,  trying  vainly  every 
means  of  relief,  lingering  to  witness  struggles  which 
wrung  my  heart,  because  I  could  not  resist  the  appeal 
ing  glance  of  dying  eyes,  the  hoarse,  whistling  whisper 
that  bade  me  stay, — because  I  must  try  to  comfort  the 
parting  soul,  must  hope  to  catch  some  last  word  or 
message  to  comfort  the  loved  ones  at  home. 

Since  then  I  have  witnessed  every  form  of  suifering 
and  death,  but  none  more  appalling  than  the  fierce 
struggle  for  breath,  when  the  lungs  are  filling  up  by 
sure  degrees,  in  the  last  stages  of  the  disease.  Never 
has  the  Death  Angel  seemed  to  me  more  merciful  than 
when  ho  took  in  his  icy  grasp  the  fevered  hands  wildly 
beating  the  air,  closed  the  starting  eyes,  silenced  the 
gasping  breath. 

0        d  5 


50  MEMORIES. 

Fortunately,  I  then  had  ample  means  at  my  command 
to  relieve  suffering,  in  many  cases  even  to  indulge  the 
caprices  of  the  sick.  In  this  I  only  acted  as  the  almoner 
of  devoted,  generous  women  in  far-away  homes,  who 
deprived  themselves  of  every  luxury  to  benefit  the  sick 
soldiers.  There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the  arrival  and 
unpacking  of  boxes. 

To  nearly  every  one  of  numberless  pairs  of  socks  and 
gloves  was  pinned  a  paper  upon  which  was  written  some 
kindly  message,  a  few  words  of  cheer,  generally  signed 
with  the  name  of  the  donor.  Strange  as  it  may  seem, 
it  is  perfectly  true  that  I  found  among  these  (not  once, 
but  several  times)  the  name  of  one  of  my  patients,  and 
at  a  venture  bearing  the  article  to  his  bedside,  watched 
his  delight,  the  eager  grasp,  the  brightened  eyes,  the 
heaving  breast  of  some  poor  fellow  who  had  thus  acci 
dentally  received  a  gift  and  message  from  his  own 
home. 

Although  relieved  of  all  unnecessary  fatigue,  having 
at  my  command  nurses  and  servants  to  carry  out  my 
plans  for  the  sick,  the  burden  of  their  suffering  lay  heavy 
upon  my  own  heart.  The  already  full  wards  of  the 
hospital  now  became  crowded.  For  many  of  the  gallant 
men  who  a  few  weeks  before  had  marched  so  gayly  to 
their  doom  were  brought  back  bearing  horrible,  ghastly 
wounds. 

Anxious  responsibility  murdered  sleep.  A  shuddering 
horror,  a  consuming  pity,  possessed  me  as  often  as  dread 
ful  groans  from  the  operating-room  reached  my  ears.  No 
one  could  have  convinced  me  then  that  I  should  ever  get 
used  to  it,  as  I  did  later. 

Mrs.  Hopkins  watched  over  me  with  the  tenderness 
of  a  mother.  But  she  also  had  hands  and  heart  full. 
Her  cautions,  with  those  of  other  friends,  bore  not  a 
feather's  weight  in  comparison  with  the  increasing  de- 


ALPHA.  5J 

mands  of  my  sick.  But  one  day  I  fell  fainting  while 
on  duty.  Thus  began  a  severe  attack  of  nervous  fever, 
which  brought  me  very  low.  Can  I  ever  forget  the 
tender,  devoted  nursing  of  some  of  the  ladies  of  Kich- 
mond  I  Truly  it  seemed  as  if  "  God  had  sent  angelic 
legions,"  whose  sweet  faces  bent  above  me  day  after 
day,  whose  kindly  voices  pervaded  my  feverish  dreams. 
The  same  care  usually  given  to  sick  soldiers  was  now  lav 
ished  upon  me.  After  several  days  I  was  able  to  leave 
my  bed,  but,  finding  myself  totally  unfit  for  duty,  and 
being  unwilling  to  remain  a  burden  upon  my  kind 
friends,  I  decided  to  go  to  my  husband's  relatives  in 
Alabama,  though  fully  intending  to  return  to  my  labors 
in  Eichmond  as  soon  as  my  strength  should  be  restored. 
My  husband  having  been  transferred  to  the  Army  of 
Tennessee,  where  he  continued  to  serve  until  the  close 
of  the  war,  this  plan  was  changed.  I  have  never  since 
revisited  the  scene  of  my  earliest  service  to  the  Confed 
eracy.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  I  did  not,  for  memory 
preserves  at  least  this  one  picture,  more  full  of  light  than 
shadow,  because  always  softly  illumined  by  the  beauti 
ful  star  which  had  not  then  begun  to  wane, — "the  star 
of  Hope." 


CHAPTEE    II. 

ALABAMA. ' 

"Here  we  rest." 

THE  hoarse  panting  of  the  steam-pipes,  the  clangor  of 
bells,  the  splashing  of  the  paddle-wheels,  died  away  in 
the  distance  as  I  stood  upon  the  landing  watching  the 
receding  boat  steaming  down  the  Alabama  River  on  its 
way  to  Mobile. 

Ah,  how  lovely  appeared  the  woodland  scenery  around 
me!  The  sombre  green  of  pines,  and  the  equally  dark 
though  glossy  foliage  of  oaks,  were  beautifully  enlivened 
by  lighter  greens,  and  by  the  brilliant  hues  of  the  sassa 
fras-tree.  Here  climbed  in  tantalizing  beauty — tempt 
ing  as  insidious  vice,  which  attracts  but  to  destroy — the 
poison-oak  vine.  Cherokee  roses  starred  the  hedges,  or, 
adventurously  climbing  the  highest  trees,  flung  down 
ward  graceful  pendants.  Upon  the  edge  of  the  bank 
stood  a  lofty  pine,  branchless  and  dead,  but,  by  the  law 
of  compensation  which  nature  delights  to  execute, 
clothed  to  the  very  top  with  closely-clinging  vines  of 
mingled  green  and  brightest  red. 

Standing  upon  the  bluff  above  the  river,  drinking  in 
the  beauty  of  the  scene,  listening,  to  the  murmur  of 
waters,  the  song  of  birds,  the  weird  music  of  the  pines, 
I  repeated  to  myself  the  sweet  name  Alabama  with  a 
new  sense  of  ~its  fitness :  sweet  quiet  and  restfulness 
seemed  to  belong  to  the  spot. 

Surely,  the  noise  of  battle,  the  suffering  and  sorrow  I 
had  so  lately  witnessed,  could  never  invade  this  abode 
of  peace.  Walking  towards  the  house  where  I  was  to 
52 


ALABAMA.  .  53 

await  conveyance  to  the  plantation  of  my  uncle,  I  heard 
the  moaning  of  one  apparently  in  deep  distress.  At  the 
door  the  lady  of  the  house  appeared,  with  red  eyes 
and  a  sorrowful  countenance.  Said  she,  "Just  listen  at 

Mrs. .   Her  son  went  off  on  the  boat  to  join  the  army, 

and  'pears  like  she  can't  get  over  it.  She  kept  up  splen 
did  until  after  he  got  off.'1  I  sat  listening,  not  daring  to 
intrude  upon  such  sorrow. 

Over  the  lovely  landscape  before  me  fell  the  shadow 
of  the  future,  a  shadow"  soon  to  darken  every  fair  domain, 
every  home  in  all  the  South. 

After  a  time  the  grieving  mother  passed  out,  and, 
entering  her  carriage,  was  driven  away  to  her  desolate 
home. 

Later,  I,  too,  accomplished  the  last  ten   miles  of  my 
journey,  arriving  at  my  destination  in  time  for  supper, 
and  meeting  with  a  cordial  welcome  from  my  friends. 
******* 

Let  none  give  undue  praise  to  the  women  to  whom 
during  the  war  Almighty  God  vouchsafed  the  inestima 
ble  privilege  of  remaining  near  the  front,  even  though 
they  may  have  endured  untold  hardship,  hours  of  agony 
while  listening  to  the  noise  of  battle,  fully  realizing  the 
extreme  danger  of  beloved  fathers,  husbands,  or  sons. 

Never  until  my  visit  to  Alabama  had  I  fully  realized 
the  horrors  of  suspense, — the  lives  of  utter  self-abnega 
tion  heroically  lived  by  women  in  country  homes  all 
over  the  South  during  the  dreary  years  of  the  war. 

Every  day — every  hour — was  fraught  with  anxiety 
and  dread.  Eumor  was  always  busy,  but  they  could 
not  hear  definitely :.  they  could  not  know  how  their  loved 
ones  were  faring. 

Can  imagination  conceive  a  situation  more  pitiable? 

Ghastly  visions  made  night  hideous.  During  the  day, 
the  quick  galloping  of  a  horse,  the  unexpected  appear- 


54  MEMORIES. 

ance  of  a  visitor,  would  agitate  a  whole  household,  send 
ing  women  in  haste  to  some  secret  place  where  they 
might  pray  for  strength  to  bear  patiently  whatever 
tidings  the  messenger  should  bring. 

Self-denial  in  all  things  began  from  the  first.  Butter, 
eggs,  chickens,  etc.,  were  classed  as  luxuries,  to  be  col 
lected  and  sent  by  any  opportunity  offering  to  the 
nearest  point  of  shipment  to  hospital  or  camp.  Fruits 
were  gathered  and  made  into  preserves  or  wine  "  for 
the  sick  soldiers."  Looms  were  set  up  on  every  planta 
tion.  The  whirr  of  the  spinning-wheel  was  heard  from 
morning  until  night.  Dusky  forms  hovered  over  large 
iron  cauldrons,  continually  thrusting  down  into  the 
boiling  dye  the  product  of  the  looms,  to  be  transformed 
into  Confederate  gray  or  butternut  jeans. 

In  the  wide  halls  within  the  plantation-houses  stood 
tables  piled  with  newly-dyed  cloth  and  hanks  of  wool 
len  or  cotton  yarns.  The  knitting  of  socks  went  on 
incessantly.  Ladies  walked  about  in  performance  of 
household  or  plantation  duties,  sock  in  hand,  "casting 
on,"  "heeling,"  "turning  off."  By  the  light  of  pine 
knots  the  elders  still  knitted  far  into  the  night,  while  to 
young  eyes  and  more  supple  fingers  was  committed  the 
task  of  finishing  off  comforts  that  had  been  "  tacked" 
during  the  day,  or  completing  heavy  army  overcoats ; 
and  painfully  these  toiled  over  the  unaccustomed  task. 

When  a  sufficient  number  of  these  articles  had  been 
completed  by  the  united  efforts  of  ladies  for  miles 
around,  a  meeting  was  held  at  one  of  the  churches, 
where  all  helped  to  pack  boxes  to  be  sent  to  "  the  front." 
I  attended  one  of  these  meetings,  the  memory  of  which 
is  ever  fresh. 

We  started  from  the  plantation  in  the  early  morning. 
Our  way  lay  along  the  red  clay  roads  which  in  many 
parts  of  Alabama  contrast  so  beautifully  with  the  vari- 


ALABAMA.  55 

ously-shadcd  green  of  the  woods  and  the  brown  carpet 
beneath  the  pines.  The  old  negro  driver,  "Uncle 
George,"  sitting  upon  the  box,  looked  solemnly  out 
from  the  enormous  and  stiff  shirt-collar  which  helped 
to  support  his  dignity. 

I  believe  the  old  man  always  drove  his  beautiful 
horses  under  protest.  It  was  either  too  early  or  too 
late,  too  hot  or  too  cold,  the  roads  either  too  muddy  or 
too  dusty. 

This  particular  morning  was  so  lovely  that  even  the 
horses  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  for  some  reason  "  Uncle 
George"  was  less  pompous  and  more  gentle  than  usual. 
Perhaps  the  anxious  faces  of  the  ladies  touched  his 
heart,  or  he  may  have  been  softened  by  the  knowledge 
of  the  perils  his  young  masters  were  being  subjected  to. 

As  often  as  we  passed  horseman  or  carriage  on  the 
road  a  stop  was  ordered,  while  the  ladies  made  eager 
inquiries  for  news  from  Richmond. 

The  battle  of  Shiloh,  and  afterwards  that  of  Seven 
Pines,  had  desolated  many  homes  in  the  vicinity.  The 
fate  of  some  was  yet  uncertain.  Strong  fellow-feeling 
knit  all  hearts.  Any  passer-by,  even  if  a  stranger, 
asked  or  answered  questions. 

A  drive  of  eight  miles  brought  us  to  the  church,  a 
simple,  lowly  building,  the  "  Grove  Church"  I  believe 
it  was  called.  Here  beneath  the  shade  were  drawn 
several  carriages,  and  at  the  door  a  few  plantation- 
wagons  waited,  some  laden  with  straw,  others  with 
articles  to  be  sent  off.  In  the  vestibule,  boxes  were 
being  rapidly  filled.  It  was  a  busy  scene,  but  by  no 
means  a  gay  one.  A  few  unconscious  children  "  played 
at  party"  in  the  pews,  setting  out  on  leaves  or  bits  of 
bark  their  luncheon,  broken  into  fragments,  and  serving 
in  acorn  cups  cold  water  for  tea.  Unmolested  and  un- 
reproved,  they  ran  up  and  down  the  steps  of  the  high, 


56  MEMORIES. 

old-fashioned  pulpit,  half-fearfully  sitting  down  upon 
the  minister's  chair,  or  standing  on  tip-toe  to  peep  over 
the  sacred  desk  at  the  busy  group  below.  Young  girls 
moved  silently  about  "  helping."  Over  their  pale  lips 
not  a  ripple  of  laughter  broke.  The  fire  of  youth 
seemed  to  have  died  out  of  their  sad  eyes,  quenched  for 
a  time  by  floods  of  bitter  tears. 

To  kindly  question  one  of  these  replied,  "  Mamma 
is  well,  but  of  course  utterly  prostrated,  and  does  not 
leave  her  room.  Papa  is  still  in  Virginia  nursing  Bud 
die  Eddie.  We  have  no  tidings  of  brother  yet ;  he  is 
reported  '  missing,'  but  we  hope  he  may  have  been 
taken  prisoner." 

Some  familiar  faces  were  absent.  And  of  these  it 
was  told  that  one  had  lost  a  husband,  another  a  son, 
and  so  the  sadness  deepened.  Presently  the  trot  of  a 
horse  was  heard.  In  another  moment  the  good  minister 
stood  among  his  people.  Alas!  he  could  only  confirm 
the  fearful  tales  of  battle  and  carnage.  But  from  the 
storehouse  of  mind  and  heart  he  brought  forth  precious 
balm,  won  direct  from  heaven  by  earnest  prayer  and 
simple  faith.  With  this  he  strove  to  soothe  the  un 
happy,  anxious  ones  who  looked  to  him  for  comfort. 
His  heart  yearned  over  his  little  flock,  wandering  in  a 
pathway  beset  with  sharpest  thorns.  But  upon  his 
troubled  face  was  plainly  written,  "  Of  myself  I  can  do 
nothing."  A  few  faltering  words  he  essayed,  but,  as  if 
conscious  of  the  utter  uselessness  of  any  language  save 
that  of  prayer,  he  raised  imploring  hands  to  heaven, 
saying,  simply,  "Let  us  pray." 

Calmer,  if  not  comforted,  all  arose  from  their  knees, 
and,  having  finished  their  labor  of  love,  separated,  to 
return  to  the  homes  which  had  known  beloved  forms 
and  faces,  but  would  know  them  no  more  for  years,  per 
haps  forever. 


ALABAMA.  57 

Upon  reaching  once  more  our  own  home,  we  crept, 
one  by  one,  to  a  darkened  chamber,  where  lay  a  mar 
tyred  mother  whose  son  had  been  slain  at  the  battle  of 
Seven  Pines.  Pale  as  death  she  lay,  her  Bible  clasped 
to  her  breast,  the  sad  eyes  closed,  the  white  lips  mur 
muring  always  words  of  prayer  for  patient  submission 
to  God's  will,  the  nerveless  bands  never  losing  their 
grasp  upon  the  "rod  and  staff"  which  comforted  her. 

Of  this  family,  every  man,  and  every  boy  old  enough 
to  handle  a  gun,  had  long  ago  joined  the  Confederate 
army.  The  dear  boy  whom  our  hearts  now  mourned 
had  just  graduated  with  the  highest  honors  when  the 
war  broke  out.  Never  a  blind  enthusiast,  but  an  intelli 
gent  patriot,  he  had  been  among  the  first  to  lay  ambi 
tious  hopes  and  literary  aspirations  upon  the  altar  of 
his  country.  His  brothers  were  cadets  at  the  Virginia 
Military  Institute,  and  afterwards  did  good  service 
under  Stonewall  Jackson.  Our  slain  hero  joined  the 
Third  Alabama  Regiment,  and,  notwithstanding  his 
tender  age  and  delicate  health,  had  already  made  his 
mark  as  a  soldier,  brave  as  the  bravest,  never  succumb 
ing  for  a  moment  to  unaccustomed  hardship.  His  record 
as  a  son  was  all  that  a  mother's  heart  could  desire. 
He  had  been  seen  by  a  comrade  during  the  terrible 
battle,  sitting  up  against  a  tree,  shot  through  the  breast 
and  mortally  wounded.  The  enemy  swept  over  the 
ground  and  he  was  seen  no  more.  Not  even  the  poor 
comfort  of  knowing  that  his  last  hours  were  rendered 
comfortable  or  where  his  grave  was  made,  was  vouch 
safed  to  this  distracted  mother.  Two  more  brave  boys 
of  the  household  were  still  unheard  from,  but  believed 
to  be  unhurt,  as  they  were  not  reported  "  dead," 
"wounded,"  or  "missing."  And  yet  the  jioble  women 
of  this  as  well  as  of  numberless  families  so  situated  in 
every  State  of  the  new  Confederacy  never  intermitted, 


58  MEMORIES. 

even  for  a  day,  their  work  for  "  the  soldiers," — left  no 
domestic  duty  unattended  to, — in  many  instances  taking 
the  place  and  doing  the  work  of  the  men  whom  patriot 
ism  had  called  to  the  field. 

Much  as  I  admired  and  revered  this  "  noble  army  of 
martyrs,"  I  lacked  moral  courage  to  emulate  their  ex 
ample.  Such  a  life  of  anxiety  and  suspense  would  have 
driven  me  mad.  The  pitiful  faces  of  the  sick  and 
wounded  haunted  me  every  hour.  I  yearned  to  be 
with  them.  I  felt  sure  that  I  was  called  to  this  work. 
My  health  being  restored,  I  could  no  longer  remain  idle. 
But  where  to  go,  how  to  begin,  I  knew  not. 

One  day  there  appeared  in  the  Selma  paper  a  lettei 
from  Surgeon  W.  T.  McAllister,  Army  of  Tennessee, 
describing  the  dreadful  condition  of  hundreds  of  sick 
and  wounded  men,  who,  after  the  terrible  battle  of 
Shiloh  and  the  subsequent  evacuation  of  Corinth,  had 
been  huddled  into  hospital-quarters  at  Gainesville,  Ala 
bama,  and  inquiring  for  a  "lady"  to  assist  him  in  organiz 
ing,  and  in  caring  for  the  sick.  Here  was  a  chance  for 
me.  I  applied  for  the  position,  and,  receiving  a  favorable 
answer,  proceeded  without  delay  to  Gainesville,  leaving 
my  little  boy  at  the  plantation  in  charge  of  his  father's 
relations. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BUCKNER   HOSPITAL,   GAINESVILLE,   ALABAMA. 

HAD  I  yielded  to  the  almost  irresistible  impulse  which 
tempted  me  to  fly  from  the  painful  scenes  and  fearful 
discouragements  which  met  me  at  Gainesville,  Alabama, 
these  "Memories"  would  have  remained  unwritten. 

I  had  stipulated  that  while  I  would  not  receive  com 
pensation  for  nursing  sick  Confederates,  and  was  quite 
willing  to  live  on  the  government  rations,  I  must  always 
be  provided  with  a  sleeping-room  in  some  respectable 
private  family,  apart  from  the  hospital.  This  was  prom 
ised  ;  and  this  arrangement  continued  as  long  as  I 
remained  at  the  "Buckner." 

Dr.  McAllister,  surgeon  in  charge,  being  unavoidably 
absent,  I  was  met  at  the  depot  by  Dr.  Minor,  assistant 
surgeon.  His  look  of  surprise,  almost  consternation, 
when  I  appeared  gave  me  an  uneasy  sensation ;  but, 
assuming  an  extra  amount  of  dignity,  I  calmly  accom 
panied  him  to  a  most  comfortable-looking  house,  where 
my  room  had  been  engaged.  The  hostess  was  unmis 
takably  a  lady.  I  met  with  a  pleasant  reception,  and 
was  soon  seated  at  supper  with  several  officers  and  their 
wives,  During  the  meal  I  had  an  uneasy  consciousness 
that  curious  glances  were  bent  upon  me  from  all  sides. 
The  evening,  however,  was  spent  agreeably.  After  I 
had  gone  to  my  room,  a  kind  old  lady  came  to  me  to 
beg  that  I  would  reconsider  my  determination  to  accept 
the  position  of  matron,  but,  finding  me  firm  and  some 
what  dignified,  left  me  to  my  fate. 

The  next  morning,  escorted  by  Dr.  Minor,  I  went 
through  the  hospital. 

69 


60  MEMORIES. 

For  the  first  time  my  heart  utterly  misgave  me,  and 
I  felt  that  my  courage  was  inadequate  to  the  task  before 
me.  I  must  premise  that  this  was  not  a  State  hospital, 
but  under  the  direction  of  the  Confederate  Government, 
which,  at  that  time,  was  full  of  perplexity  and  trouble, 
yet,  like  all  new  governments,  exceedingly  tenacious  of 
forms.  Dr.  Minor  told  me  that  the  time  and  attention 
of  Dr.  McAllister  had  been  fully  occupied  in  untying, 
one  after  another,  knots  of  red  tape,  and  that,  so  far, 
perfect  organization  had  been  impossible. 

I  entered  the  wards  expecting  to  find  something  of 
the  neatness  and  order  which  in  the  Richmond  hospitals 
had  charmed  every  visitor. 

Alas!  alas!  were  these  the  brave  men  who  had  made 
forever  glorious  the  name  of  Shiloh? 

Hospital  supplies  were  scarce ;  beds  and  bedding  could 
not  be  often  changed.  Here  were  rooms  crowded  with 
uncomfortable-looking  beds,  on  which  lay  men  whose 
gangrened  wounds  gave  forth  foul  odors,  which,  mingled 
with  the  terrible  effluvia  from  the  mouths  of  patients 
ill  of  scurvy,  sent  a  shuddering  sickness  through  my 
frame.  In  one  room  were  three  or  four  patients  with 
faces  discolored  and  swollen  out  of  all  semblance  of 
humanity  by  erysipelas, — raging  with  fever,  shouting  in 
delirious  agony. 

The  hospital  had  formerly  been  a  large  hotel,  and  was 
divided  into  many  rooms,  all  crowded  with  sick.  The 
wounded  men  who  were  not  gangrened  were  carefully 
kept  apart  from  those  who  were.  Some  of  these  were 
frightfully  disfigured  in  the  face  or  head,  and  pre 
sented  a  ghastly  appearance.  In  rooms  filled  with  fever- 
patients  old  men  and  mere  boys  lay  helpless,  struggling 
with  various  forms  and  stages  of  disease,  hoarsely  raving, 
babbling  sweetly  of  home,  vainly  calling  remembered 
names,  or  lying  in  the  fatal  stupor  which  precedes  death. 


BUCKNER  HOSPITAL.  61 

Although  many  convalescents  paced  gloomily  up  and 
down  the  halls,  or  lounged  upon  the  spacious  galleries, 
I  noticed  few  male  nurses.  Perhaps  half  a  dozen  women 
met  us  at  the  doors  of  different  wards,  jauntily  dressed, 
airily  "  showing  off"  their  patients,  and  discoursing  of 
their  condition  and  probable  chances  of  life,  in  a  manner 
utterly  revolting  to  me.  I  caught  many  a  glance  of 
disgust  bent  upon  them  by  the  poor  fellows  who  were 
thus  treated  as  if  they  were  stocks  or  stones.  These 
women  were,  while  under  the  eye  of  the  surgeon,  ob 
sequious  and  eager  to  please,  but  I  thought  I  saw  the 
"  lurking  devil  in  their  eyes,"  and  felt  sure  they  meant 
mischief. 

Dr.  McAllister  arrived  that  night.  The  next  morning 
I  was  regularly  installed.  But  I  could  not  help  feeling 
that  there  was  a  reservation  of  power  and  authority,  a 
doubt  of  my  capacity,  due  to  my  youthful  appearance. 
Very  helpless  and  friendless  I  felt,  as,  escorted  by  the 
"surgeon  in  charge,"  I  once  more  made  the  rounds.  He 
left  me  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  fever-wards.  This  I 
entered,  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  upon  the  scene 
of  suffering  humanity,  wondering  how  and  where  to 
begin  the  work  of  alleviation.  Suddenly  a  faint  voice 
called  "  Milly !  Oh,  Milly !"  I  turned  to  meet  a  pair  of 
blue  eyes  regarding  me  with  a  look  of  pleased  recogni 
tion,  although  it  was  at  once  evident  that  I  had  been 
mistaken  for  some  "loved  one  at  home"  through  the 
delirium  of  fever.  Humoring  the  fancy,  I  stepped  to 
his  bedside  and  gave  my  hand  to  the  hot  clasp  of"the 
poor  fellow,  a  man  of  middle  age,  whose  eyes,  fever- 
bright,  still  devoured  my  face  with  a  happy  look. 
"Howdy,  Milly!  I've  been  looking  for  you  every  day. 
I'm  mighty  glad  you've  come.  The  roar  of  the  guns 
has  hurt  my  head  powerful.  Get  some  water  from  the 
far  spring  and  bathe  my  head,  Milly." 

6 


62  MEMORIES. 

• 
It  so  happened  that  one  of  his  own  company,  of  some 

Georgia  regiment,  a  convalescent,  had  by  his  own  re 
quest  been  detailed  to  nurse  the  sick  man.  He  soon 
brought  me  water,  and  I  bathed  the  hot  head,  face,  and 
hands,  until  the  patient  fell  asleep. 

This  little  incident  encouraged  me  greatly.  Passing 
on  among  the  sick,  I  found  no  lack  of  work,  but  sadly 
missed  the  facilities,  comforts,  and  luxuries  which  in 
Richmond  had  been  always  at  my  command. 

Lest  it  seem  strange  that  such  a  state  of  things  should 
have  existed,  I  will  here  ask  the  reader  to  remember  that 
military  movements  of  tremendous  importance  were  then 
taking  place.  An  immense  army  was  executing,  "  with 
admirable  skill  and  precision,"  a  change  of  base.  Upon 
this  army  depended  the  destinies  of  a  large  portion  of 
the  Confederacy.  Means  of  transportation  for  the  troops 
and  their  military  supplies,  including,  as  an  important 
precautionary  measure,  medical  stores,  became  an  im 
perative  necessity.  The  wounded  and  sick  had  also 
been  moved,  and  at  least  placed  under  shelter.  Sur 
geons,  however,  were  unable  to  obtain  either  suitable 
diet  or  needed  medicines.  Requisitions  failed  to  be 
promptly  filled,  and  hence  the  state  of  things  I  have 
tried  to  describe. 

Dr.  McAllister  was  absent  most  of  the  time  in  the 
interests  of  the  unfortunates  under  his  charge.  Mean 
time,  I  struggled  to  perform  my  duties  among  the  sick, 
and  to  exert  authority,  of  which,  as  I  soon  discovered, 
I  possessed  but  the  semblance.  Nothing  was  left  undone 
by  the  women  before  referred  to  to  thwart  and  anno}^ 
me.  They  had  evidently  determined  I  should  not  re 
main  there.  I  had  ample  evidence  that  they  were 
neglectful  and  unscrupulous  in  their  dealings  with  the 
patients. 

In  one  of  the  rooms,  separated  from  the  other  patients, 


BUCKNER   HOSPITAL.  63 

I  found  a  man  who  bad  been  brought  in  several  days 
before,  suffering  from  excessive  drinking.  Not  being 
able  to  obtain  whiskey,  he  had  managed  to  get  hold  of  a 
bottle  of  turpentine  emulsion  from  a  table  in  the  hall, 
and  had  drank  the  whole.  Dr.  Minor  and  I  worked  for 
hours  with  this  unfortunate  and  hoped  he  would  recover, 
but  other  patients  required  looking  after,  and  during  my 
absence  whiskey  was  smuggled  in  to  him,  of  which  he 
partook  freely.  After  that,  nothing  could  save  his  life. 
A  patient  suffering  agonies  from  gastritis  was  also  placed 
under  my  special  charge.  I  was  to  feed  him  myself,  and 
avoid  giving  water,  except  in  the  smallest  quantities. 
I  did  my  best,  but  he  grew  worse,  and  just  in  time  I 
found  under  his  pillow  a  canteen  full  of  water,  which 
had  been  procured  for  him  by  the  woman  who  attended 
in  his  ward.  If  I  called  for  a  basin  of  water  to  wash 
the  face  and  hands  of  neglected  men,  one  of  these 
women  would  laugh  insultingly  and  say,  "  Perhaps  ye'll 
wait  till  I  get  a  nagur  to  bring  it  to  you,  or  a  silver 
waiter."  They  would  insist  that  the'surgeon  had  ordered 
them  to  do  this  or  that,  and  stop  to  argue  against  my 
directions,  until  I  was  fain  to  save  the  sick  further  noise 
and  clamor  by  leaving  the  ward. 

Not  wishing  to  begin  my  work  by  complaining,  or 
reporting  to  the  surgeons  these  daily-recurring  annoy 
ances,  I  struggled  to  hold  my  own  and  to  break  down 
opposition  by  patient  endurance.  But  one  morning  the 
"  last  straw"  was  added  to  my  burden.  I  found  my 
Georgia  soldier  apparently  dying, — breathing  heavily, 
and  as  cold  as  death  already.  His  comrade  was  in 
great  distress,  but  ready  to  do  all  in  his  power,  and 
together  we  went  to  work  in  earnest.  I  sent  for  brandy 
and  a  box  of  mustard.  Pouring  through  the  white  lipa 
spoonful  after  spoonful  of  the  stimulant,  rubbing  hands, 
arms,  and  legs  with  mustard,  applying  plasters  of  the 


64  MEMORIES. 

same,  as  well  as  bottles  of  water,  to  restore  warmth  to 
the  body,  I  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  faint 
color  tinge  the  cheeks  and  lips, — the  clammy  sweat  super 
seded  by  returning  warmth.  Working  earnestly,  think 
ing  of  nothing  but  the  human  life  that  hung  in  the 
balance,  I  failed  to  observe  the  presence  of  the  most 
disagreeable  of  the  female  nurses,  who  was  standing, 
with  "  arms  akimbo,"  looking  on,  until,  with  an  insult 
ing  leer,  she  remarked,  "  It  seems  to  me  ye're  taking 
great  liberties  for  an  honest  woman."  Paralyzed  with 
surprise  and  indignation,  I  knew  not  how  to  act.  Just 
then  the  surgeon  in  charge  of  the  ward,  who  had  been 
summoned,  appeared. 

After  a  hasty  examination,  "Madam,"  said  he,  "you 
have  saved  your  patient." 

Leaving  the  case  in  his  hands,  I  fled  to  my  room,  re 
solving  never  to  enter  the  hospital  again.  Forthwith  I 
wrote  my  resignation,  and  demanded  transportation 
back  to  Alabama. 

Meantime,  the  comrade  of  the  sick  man  had  reported 
to  the  surgeon  the  whole  matter.  The  next  morning  I 
received  a  visit  from  Surgeons  McAllister,  Minor,  and 

(whose  name  I  am  sorry  to  have  forgotten),  of  the 

ward  I  had  fled  from.  A  letter  had  been  received  from 
Dr.  Little,  of  Eichmond,  whose  name  I  had  given  as 
reference.  The  ill  behavior  of  the  nurses  having  come 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  surgeon  in  charge,  he  at  once 
acted  with  his  usual  promptness  and  decision.  The  ob 
noxious  women  had  already  been  discharged  and  fur 
nished  with  transportation  to  Mobile ;  the  men  who  had 
aided  and  abetted  them  were  ordered  to  their  regiments. 
I  was  urged  to  remain,  on  my  own  terms,  and  offered 
a  position  of  trust,  responsibility,  and  honor, — my  au 
thority  to  be  second  only  to  that  of  surgeon  in  charge 
in  general  matters ;  in  the  wards,  to  that  of  the  ward 


BUCKNER    HOSPITAL.  65 

surgeons.  Under  these  circumstances  I  could  not  re 
fuse  to  withdraw  my  resignation. 

The  next  day  the  work  of  reorganization  commenced. 
Then  and  there  I  was  invested  with  full  power  and 
authority,  and  received  from  Dr.  McAllister  assurances 
of  entire  confidence  and  thorough  co-operation,  which 
were  accorded  in  the  highest  decree  during  the  whole 

o  o  o 

term  of  my  service  in  the  Buckner  Hospital,  and  the 
prestige  of  which  gave  me  great  advantages  in  other 
fields  of  labor. 

Aside  from  profoundest  love  of  "  the  Cause,"  and  (as 
I  firmly  believed)  the  inspiration  which  directed  my 
efforts  to  serve  it,  I  had  nothing  to  offer.  "  With  all 
my  soul,  with  all  my  heart,  with  all  my  strength,"  I  was 
ready  to  serve ;  but  this  would  have  availed  little  had 
not  my  right  to  do  so  been  officially  acknowledged,  had 
I  not  acquired  power  to  follow  out  the  dictates  of  reason 
and  heart  for  the  benefit  of  my  patients. 

As  the  organization  begun  at  Gainesville,  and  the  rules 
and  regulations  then  adopted,  were  fully  perfected  soon 
after  we  reached  the  next  "  post,"  and  remained  in  full 
force  as  long  as  the  Buckner  Hospital  existed,  it  may 
be  as  well  to  briefly  describe  them  here. 

Convalescents  were  turned  over  to  the  steward,  and 
their  meals  were  attended  to  by  him  and  his  assistants. 
I  had  only  to  see  that  their  mess-room  was  kept  in  order 
and  that  their  rations  were  cooked  to  the  best  advan 
tage.  For  the  sick  I  had  my  own  kitchen,  my  own 
cooks  and  other  servants,  my  own  store-room,  also 
liberty  to  send  out  foragers.  Every  morning  I  sent  to 
each  surgeon  a  list  of  such  diet  as  I  could  command  for 
the  sick.  With  this  in  hand  he  was  able  to  decide 
upon  the  proper  food  for  each  patient.  Each  bed  was 
numbered.  The  head-nurse  kept  a  small  book,  into 
which  he  copied  each  day's  diet-list.  He  was  also  ex- 
e  6* 


66  MEMORIES. 

pected  to  have  ready  every  morning  a  fresh  piece  of 
paper,  upon  which  the  surgeon  wrote  the  numbers  of 
the  beds,  and  opposite,  P.  D.,  H.  D.,  L.  D.,  V.  L.  D.,  or 
S.  D.  (full  diet,  half  diet,  light  diet,  very  light  diet,  and 
special  diet).  If  special  directions  were  needed,  the  sur 
geon  brought  the  list  to  my  business-room.  If  not,  it 
was  left  with  the  head-nurse,  and  when  I  made  my  own 
rounds  it  would  be  my  guide  in  consulting  the  tastes 
of  the  patients  themselves  as  to  the  kind  of  food  they 
preferred  and  its  preparation.  Of  all  this  I  made  notes. 
I  made  it  a  point  to  feed  the  very  ill  patients  myself. 
Others  were  served  from  a  distributing-room,  where  at 
regular  meal-times  I  always  presided,  sitting  at  the  end 
of  a  long  table,  having  a  pile  of  tin  numbers  before  me 
corresponding  to  the  numbers  on  the  beds  in  the  wards. 
There  was  an  under-steward  whose  business  it  was  to 
supply  the  plates ;  also  two  helpers.  The  head-nurse 
from  Ward  No.  1  having  come  down  with  his  subordin 
ates  would  call  out,  "No.  1,  full  diet,"  or  as  the  case 
might  be.  As  the  plate  was  filled,  I  handed  out  the 
corresponding  number,  which  was  put  upon  the  plate. 
The  plates  having  been  placed  upon  large  wooden  trays, 
were  carried  off  to  the  ward.  Then  came  No.  2,  and 
so  on,  all  the  special  patients  having  been  attended  to 
previously. 

Everything  relating  to  the  bedding,  clothing,  and  the 
personal  belongings  of  the  sick  and  wounded  I  found 
in  a  fearful  state.  In  one  room  down-stairs  perhaps 
two  or  three  hundred  knapsacks,  haversacks,  canteens, 
etc.,  were  thrown  upon  the  floor  in  large  piles.  No  one 
knew  to  whom  they  belonged,  no  one  seemed  to  care, 
and  it  appeared  to  me  impossible  to  bring  any  degree  of 
order  out  of  the  chaotic  mass  of  wet,  half-dry,  rough- 
dry,  in  some  cases  mildewed  clothing  lying  everywhere 
about.  Prompt  measures  were  taken  with  the  washer- 


BUCKNER  HOSPITAL.  67 

woman,  which  resulted,  in  a  day  or  two,  in  a  procession 
of  darkies,  each  bearing  a  pile  of  clothing  embracing 
almost  every  article  of  men's  apparel.  A  "  linen  mas 
ter"  having  been  detailed,  a  "linen-room"  set  apart  and 
shelved,  the  articles  were  placed  upon  large  tables  to  be 
sorted  and  piled  upon  the  shelves,  ready  for  reclama 
tion  by  the  convalescents  and  others  who  were  not  too 
ill  to  identify  their  own.  Some  of  these  clothes  were 
torn  and  buttonless.  My  detailed  men  could  not  sew. 
The  demands  of  the  sick  and  the  duties  of  general 
supervision  left  me  no  time.  Taught  by  my  experience 
of  the  devoted  women  of  Virginia  and  Alabama,  I  re 
solved  to  visit  some  of  the  ladies  of  Gainesville,  and  to 
solicit  their  aid.  The  response  was  hearty  and  immedi 
ate.  Next  day  the  linen-room  was  peopled  by  bright, 
energetic  ladies,  at  whose  hands  the  convalescents 
received  their  renovated  garments  with  words  of 
warm  sympathy  and  encouragement  that  cheered  their 
hearts. 

The  lack  of  clean  bedding  being  made  known,  these 
generous,  patriotic  women  sent  in  soft,  clean  old  sheets, 
pillow-slips,  etc.,  also  a  few  old  shirts, — some  of  them 
even  bearing  with  me  the  horrors  of  the  scurvy  and  gan 
grene  wards  to  assist  in  making  the  sufferers  more  com 
fortable.  Details  for  all  purposes  were  made  as  soon  as 
I  asked  for  them,  and  as  "  many  hands  make  light  work," 
order  and  system  began  to  pervade  all  departments.  A 
baggage-master,  with  several  temporary  assistants,  found 
work  for  several  days  in  disposing  of  the  knapsacks, 
haversacks,  blankets,  etc.  As  fast  as  they  were  claimed, 
they  were  ticketed  with  the  number  of  the  ward  and 
bed  of  the  claimant,  and  piled  away  to  await  his  return 
to  his  regiment.  Those  unreclaimed  and  known  to  have 
belonged  to  the  dead  were  labelled  as  far  as  possible 
with  the  name  and  date  of  death,  company,  and  regi- 


68  MEMORIES. 

ment,  and  stored  until  friends  should  come  or  write  for 
them. 

The  work  of  organization  was  not  nearly  complete, 
when  Dr.  McAllister  received  orders  to  report  with  his 
hospital  staff  at  Einggold,  Georgia.  The  sick  were  to  be 
removed  elsewhere, — at  any  rate  were  not  to  accompany 
us.  Hospital  stores  would  be  supplied  at  Einggold.  The 
doctor  and  his  attendants  awaited  transportation,  which 
seemed  difficult  to  obtain.  Many  bodies  of  soldiers 
crowded  every  train, — passenger,  freight,  and  even  cattle 
cars. 

Dr.  McAllister  decided  to  send  his  wife  and  myself  by 
private  conveyance  to  Marion,  Alabama,  to  remain  there 
until  we  should  receive  final  directions.  Two  servants 
belonging  to  Mrs.  McAllister  accompanied  us.  Our  kind 
hostess  had  put  up  a  basket  of  provisions. 

I  took  a  sad  leave  of  the  patients  who  had  become 
so  dear  to  me,  and  one  bright  morning  we  drove  rapidly 
out  of  Gainesville  on  our  way  to  Marion. , 

The  ride  was  a  perfect  delight,  over  excellent  roads, 
or  through  aisles  of  the  forest,  where  the  healthful  odor 
of  the  pines  perfumed  the  air,  and  myriads  of  birds 
made  sweetest  music.  Stopping  beside  some  sparkling 
spring  to  lunch  and  dine,  chatting  gayly  all  day,  growing 
thoughtful  and  silent,  as,  borne  upon  the  breeze  of  even 
ing,  there  came  to  us  the  whispering  voices  of  memory, 
renewing  the  sorrow  of  parting,  awakening  afresh 
anxious  fears  for  the  absent. 

We  slept  at  any  house  along  the  road  where  night 
overtook  us,  always  expecting  and  finding  a  welcome. 
In  these  homes,  as  everywhere  else  over  the  South, 
sorrow  and  care  had  taken  up  their  abode.  Haggard, 
weary-looking  women,  from  whose  hearts  and  homes 
joy  had  departed  with  the  dear  ones  who  had  gone  forth 
to  battle,  plied  us  with  eager  questions.  We  related  to 


BUCKNER   HOSPITAL.  69 

them  all  we  knew  of  military  movements.  But  it  was 
very  little,  and  we  could  give  them  no  tidings  of  their 
own. 

The  third  day  brought  us  to  Marion,  where,  at  the 
pleasant  home  of  Mrs.  McAllister,  we  awaited  further 
orders. 

I  have  very  pleasant  recollections  of  Marion,  and  of 
the  elegant  homes  where  I  was  so  delightfully  enter 
tained.  But  already  love  for  my  chosen  work  had 
reached  (so  people  told  me)  the  height  of  infatuation. 
Between  me  and  every  offered  pleasure  appeared  the 
pale,  reproachful  faces  of  the  suffering  soldiers.  My 
place  was  beside  them,  and  I  longed  for  the  summons. 

A  letter  from  Dr.  McAllister  to  his  wife  announced  the 
establishment  of  a  hospital  post  in  Ringgold,  Georgia,  but 
counselled  our  waiting  until  "things  could  be  straight 
ened  out."  I  could  not  wait,  so  left  the  same  evening, 
arriving  in  time  to  organize  my  own  department,  which, 
as  the  assistants  had  not  been  changed,  and  fell  easily 
into  their  places,  was  not  so  difficult  as  at  Gainesville. 
Besides,  we  received  a  fair  supply  of  hospital  stores,  and 
were  enabled  to  make  patients  very  comfortable. 


CHAPTEK   IV. 

RINGQOLD. 

THE  hospitals  established  at  Kinggold,  Georgia,  early 
in  the  fall  of  1862,  received  the  wounded  and  the  not 
less  serious  cases  of  typhoid  fever,  typhoid  pneumonia, 
dysentery,  and  scurvy  resulting  from  almost  unparal 
leled  fatigue,  exposure,  and  every  kind  of  hardship  in 
cident  to  Bragg's  retreat  from  Kentucky.  These  sick 
men  were  no  shirkers,  but  soldiers  brave  and  true,  who, 
knowing  their  duty,  had  performed  it  faithfully,  until 
little  remained  to  them  but  the  patriot  hearts  beating 
almost  too  feebly  to  keep  soul  and  body  together.  The 
court-house,  one  church,  warehouses,  stores,  and  hotels 
were  converted  into  hospitals.  Eow  after  row  of  beds 
filled  every  ward.  Upon  them  lay  wrecks  of  humanity, 
pale  as  the  dead,  with  sunken  eyes,  hollow  cheeks  and 
temples,  long,  claw-like  hands.  Oh,  those  poor,  weak, 
nerveless  hands  used  to  seem  to  me  more  pitiful  than 
all ;  and  when  I  remembered  all  they  had  achieved  and 
how  they  had  lost  their  firm,  sinewy  proportions,  their 
strong  grasp,  my  heart  swelled  with  pity  and  with  pas 
sionate  devotion.  Often  I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  held 
these  cold  hands  to  my  heart  for  warmth,  and  given  of 
my  own  warm  blood  to  fill  those  flaccid  veins. 

Every  train  brought  in  squads  of  just  such  poor  fel 
lows  as  I  have  tried  to  describe.  How  well  I  remember 
them  toiling  painfully  from  the  depot  to  report  at 
the  surgeon's  office,  then,  after  being  relieved  of  their 
accoutrements,  tottering  with  trembling  limbs  to  the 
beds  from  which,  perhaps,  they  would  never  more 
arise.  This  hospital-post,  as  nearly  as  I  remember,  com- 
70 


RING  GOLD.  71 

prised  only  two  hospitals,  the  Bragg  and  the  Buckner. 
Of  the  Bragg,  Dr.  S.  M.  Bemis  was  surgeon  in  charge ; 
assistant  surgeons,  Gore,  of  Kentucky;  Hewes,  of 
Louisville,  Kentucky ;  Welford,  of  Virginia ;  Eedwood, 
of  Mobile,  Alabama,  and  some  others  whose  names  I 
cannot  now  recall.  Dr.  W.  T.  McAllister  was  surgeon 
in  charge  of  the  Buckner.  Of  the  assistant  surgeons 
I  can  only  remember  Dr.  W.  S.  Lee,  then  of  Florida, 
now  a  successful  practitioner  and  an  honored  citizen  of 
Dallas,  Texas;  Dr.  E.  D.  Jackson,  of  Selma,  Alabama, 
who  since  the  war  has  lived  a  well-beloved  physician 
and  druggist  in  Summerfield,  Alabama ;  Dr.  Keese,  also 
of  Alabama,  and  Dr.  Yates,  of  Texas,  now  dead.  For 
a  few  months  Dr.  Francis  Thornton,  of  Kentucky,  was, 
surgeon  of  the  post.  He  was  a  fiery,  impetuous,  manly 
man,  a  rigid  disciplinarian,  but  always  compelled  to 
fight  against  the  dictates  of  his  large,  warm  heart  when 
duty  compelled  him  to  execute  severe  justice. 

Mrs.  Thornton  was  one  of  the  most  lovable  women  I 
ever  knew ;  impulsive  and  earnest  in  her  friendship, 
of  a  sunny,  cheerful  temperament  seldom  ckmded.  Her 
pride  in  her  husband  and  her  happiness  in  being  with 
him  was  pleasant  to  see.  While  she  remained  in  Ring- 
gold  we  were  warm  friends.  To  her  thoughtful  kind 
ness  I  owed  many  an  indulgence  in  dainties  not  supplied 
by  the  Confederate  Government.  My  room  was  in  the 
same  house  where  the  surgeons  and  their  wives  were 
boarding.  Often  returning  late  from  the  hospital, 
weary  and  dispirited,  her  sweet  voice  would  "  halt"  me  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs,  a  kindly  arm  impelling  me  to  her 
cheerful  room,  where  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  nice  little  sup 
per  was  in  readiness,  made  far  more  enjoyable  by  her 
loving  service  and  pleasant  talk  so  full  of  cheer.  The 
other  ladies  were  just  as  kind-hearted,  but  none  had  the 
sweet,  winning  grace  that  characterized  Mrs.  Thornton, 


72  MEMORIES. 

except,  perhaps,  Mrs.  Lee,  wife  of  the  surgeon  above 
mentioned.  She  was  also  one  of  the  dearest  and  kind 
est  of  friends.  My  enthusiasm  in  regard  to  Mrs.  Lee 
was  almost  like  that  of  a  lover.  She  was  a.  beautiful 
woman,  tall,  majestic,  graceful,  towards  the  world  at 
large  dignified  and,  perhaps,  a  little  reticent ;  to  those 
whom  she  honored  with  her  love  or  friendship,  irresist 
ibly  fascinating.  Her  eyes  were — not  magnificent,  but 
just  "  the  sweetest  ever  seen,"  and  combined  with  a  per 
fect  mouth  to  make  her  smile  a  caress.  In  addition, 
rare  intelligence  and  fine  conversational  powers  rendered 
her  a  delightful  companion.  Dr.  Lee  was  by  birth  a 
South  Carolinian,  a  polished  gentleman,  and,  though  in 
general  self-contained  and  of  quiet  manners,  proved  a 
warm  friend  and  a  most  pleasant  host.  Mrs.  Lee  used 
to  search  for  me  through  the  wards,  and,  having  found 
me,  would  flourish  a  "prescription,"  made  out  in  due 
form,  for  "  an  hour  of  leisure,  to  be  repeated  twice  every 
week  before  retiring."  These  hours  spent  at  the  pleas 
ant  quarters  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Lee  were,  indeed,  "  a  feast 
of  reason  and  a  flow  of  soul,"  often  diversified  by  funny 
experiments  in  disguising  the  remains  of  the  day's  ra 
tions  by  cooking  recipes  familiar  in  ante-bellum  days, 
but  which  generally  failed  because  substitutes  would 
never  produce  the  same  results  as  the  real  ingredients. 

Dr.  Lee  was  some  months  afterwards  transferred  to 
Cherokee  Springs  as  surgeon  in  charge  of  one  of  the 
convalescent  hospitals,  of  which  Mrs.  Lee  volunteered 
to  act  as  matron.  We  parted  with  real  regret,  but  truly 
her  patients  gained  by  our  loss.  For  she  was  most  com 
petent,  faithful,  and  well-beloved  by  those  to  whom  she 
ministered. 

The  autumn  passed  quickly,  some  pretty  severe  days 
giving  us  a  foretaste  of  the  rigor  of  a  winter  in  North 
Georgia.  By  November  1  it  was  not  only  bitterly  cold, 


RINGGOLD.  73 

but  snow  covered  the  ground  to  the  depth  of  six  inches, 
and  the  roads  were  furrowed  and  frozen.  Terrible 
accounts  reached  us  from  Bragg's  army,  who  were  with 
out  shoes,  blankets,  or  clothes,  and  suffering  fearfully. 
Officers  and  men  were  alike  destitute.  General  Patton 
Anderson  determined  to  make  an  effort  to  supply  his 
division,  and  for  this  purpose  selected  Lieutenant  J.  A. 
Chalaron,  Fifth  Company,  Washington  Artillery,  as  one 
in  every  way  qualified  to  carry  out  such  an  undertaking, 
who  was  therefore  ordered  to  Savannah  and  other  places 
to  secure  the  needed  supplies. 

He  cheerfully  accepted  the  charge,  although  it  involved 
deprivation  of  the  rest  so  greatly  needed,  and  the  con 
tinuance  of  hardship  already  extended  almost  beyond 
human  endurance.  But  the  young  officer  was  every 
inch  a  soldier,  and  one  of  a  company  which  had  already 
won  a  name  for  itself  not  less  for  invincible  courage 
than  for  soldierly  bearing  and  devotion  to  duty.  That 
so  young  a  soldier  was  selected  to  conduct  such  an 
undertaking  proved  how  surely  he  had  deserved  and  won 
the  confidence  of  his  superior  officers.  In  those  days 
railroad  travelling  was  far  from  pleasant.  The  train  upon 
which  Lieutenant  Chalaron  embarked  at  Knoxville  was 
a  motley  affair, — perhaps  a  single  passenger-car,  rough 
and  dilapidated  (crowded  with  those  who,  though  ill, 
made  shift  to  sit  up  or  recline  upon  the  seats),  box-cars 
and  cattle-cars  filled  with  suffering  men  helplessly  sick. 
In  order  that  these  might  not  be  crowded,  Lieutenant 
Chalaron,  with  one  or  two  others,  rode  on  the  top  of  a 
box-car  for  twelve  hours,  from  Knoxville  to  Chattanooga, 
exposed  to  the  inclement  weather  which  he  was  ill  pre 
pared  to  meet,  having  shared  the  inexpressible  hardships 
of  the  Kentucky  campaign,  including  destitution  of  suit 
able  clothing.  I  take  pleasure  in  recording  this  noble 
act,  because  Lieutenant  Chalaron  was  from  New  Orleans 
D  7 


74  MEMORIES. 

(also  my  own  beloved  home).  The  impulse  of  self- 
sacrifice,  and  of  chivalrous  devotion  towards  the  helpless 
and  suffering,  sprung  from  a  heart  pulsating  with  the 
knightly  blood  of  the  Creole  of  Louisiana.  Ah,  that 
impetuous  blood  which  stirred  at  the  first  call  to  arms, 
which  was  poured  out  in  continual  libations  to  South 
ern  liberty,  from  the  time  it  gushed  from  the  breast  of 
the  first  martyr  of  the  war  (our  Charlie  Dreux),  until 
almost  in  the  "last  ditch,"  piled  high  with  masses  of 
Confederate  dead,  lay  the  gory  body  of  Edgar  Dreux, 
the  very  topmost  man,  proving  how  invincible  was  the 
courage  that  quailed  not  at  the  sight  of  that  ghastly 
altar  of  sacrifice ! 

The  large  brick  court-house  in  the  centre  of  the  town 
of  Einggold  was  especially  devoted  to  my  use.  The 
court-room  occupying  the  entire  upper  floor  was  fitted 
up  for  fifty  patients.  This  was  facetiously  called  "  the 
nursery,"  and  its  occupants  "Mrs.  Beers's  babies."  In 
this  ward  were  placed,  as  far  as  its  capacity  permitted, 
patients  who  needed  to  be  visited  very  often,  and  for 
whose  proper  nourishment  and  the  prompt  administra 
tion  of  medicine  I  was  responsible.  For  instance,  if 
one  of  the  fever-patients  was  taking  veratrum,  I  must 
see  it  dropped  and  given,  and  note  the  pulse.  If  one 
was  just  struggling  through  dysentery,  I  must  attend 
to  his  nourishment,  and  generally  fed  him  myself. 
Down-stairs  was  one  large  room,  and  three  of  good 
size,  but  smaller.  The  large  one  was  also  a  ward. 
My  business-room  opposite  was  also  the  linen-room  of 
the  hospital.  Shelves  ran  from  floor  to  ceiling,  a  coun 
ter  in  front  of  them.  In  one  corner  stood  my  desk,  and 
beside  it  a  large  country  rocking-chair ;  in  another  a 
rough  lounge  for  the  convenience  of  visiting  patients. 
In  front  of  the  immense  fireplace  (where  there  was 
always  a  cheerful  fire)  stood  a  table  and  chairs  for  the 


RINGGOLD.  75 

surgeons,  who  cume  in  after  each  round  through  the 
wards,  to  leave  special  directions  and  diet-lists.  Through 
the  day  this  room  was  a  cheerful  place.  I  seldom  en 
tered  it  without  finding  one  or  more  visitors,  especially 
in  the  morning,  when  the  surgeons  always  met  there, 
and  their  wives  generally  joined  them.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  hall  was  the  distributing-room  in  one  corner, 
in  the  other  a  store-room,  where,  also,  under  my  own 
lock  and  key,  I  kept  the  effects  of  dead  soldiers,  labelled 
and  ready  for  identification  by  their  friends.  I  was 
assisted  in  this  work,  in  keeping  the  linen-room  in 
order,  and  in  various  other  ways,  by  a  young  German 
who  had  been  detailed  for  that  purpose.  He  was  a 
well-educated  young  man  and  a  fine  musician, — in  fact, 
had  been  a  professor  of  music  before  the  war,  had  en 
tered  the  service  intelligently,  desiring  to  remain  in 
active  service,  but  some  disability  caused  his  detail. 
His  position  was  no  sinecure :  he  was  expected  to  keep 
a  full  account  of  all  stores  in  my  department,  all  bed 
ding,  hospital  clothing,  all  clothing  of  the  patients,  and 
a  great  many  other  things,  having  full  charge  of  the 
laundry  and  the  laundresses,  with  whom  he  was  always 
in  "  hot  water."  For  this  reason  he  was  dubbed  by  the 
surgeons  General  Blandner,  and  his  employees  were 
called  Blandner' s  Brigade.  He  was  methodical  in  all 
things.  His  books  were  exquisitely  kept.  I  had  been  a 
good  musician,  and  now  used  often  to  sing  to  Blandner's 
lute,  which  he  played  in  a  masterly  manner.  His  im 
provisations  were  a  great  delight  to  me,  and,  finding  me 
so  appreciative,  he  composed  a  lovely  set  of  waltzes, 
"  The  Hospital  Waltzes"  which  were  dedicated  to  me,  but 
never  published,  only  exquisitely  written  out  on  pieces 
of  wall-paper  by  the  composer.  After  the  war,  Mr. 
Blandner  obtained  through  Dr.  McAllister  the  position 
of  professor  of  music  at  the  female  college  at  Marion, 


76  MEMORIES. 

Alabama,  but  removed  later  to  Philadelphia,  whore  he 
now  resides,  still  as  a  professor  and  teacher  of  music. 

The  cold  increased,  and  the  number  of  patients  grew 
larger.  Snow  and  ice  rendered  it  difficult  for  me  to  get 
to  the  wards,  as  they  lay  quite  far  apart.  The  board 
ing-house  at  first  occupied  by  the  surgeons'  families  was 
now  vacated  and  fitted  up  for  officers'  wards,  a  room 
being  found  for  me  in  a  log  house,  owned  by  an  old  lady, 
Mrs.  Evans,  whose  sons,  except  the  youngest,  a  mere 
lad,  were  in  the  Confederate  army. 

It  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  court 
house.  The  road  thither,  lying  through  a  piece  of  piney 
woods,  was  almost  always  blocked  by  drifted  snow  or 
what  the  Georgians  called  "slush"  (a  mixture  of  mud 
and  snow).  I  must  confess  that  the  freezing  mornings 
chilled  my  patriotism  a  little,  but  just  because  it  was  so 
cold  the  sick  needed  closer  attention.  One  comfort 
never  failed  me :  it  was  the  watchful  devotion  of  a 
soldier  whom  I  had  nursed  in  Gainesville,  Alabama,  and 
who,  by  his  own  request,  was  now  permanently  attached 
to  my  special  corps  of  "  helpers."  No  matter  how  cold 
the  morning  or  how  stormy,  I  never  opened  my  door 
but  there  was  "  Old  Peter"  waiting  to  attend  me.  When 
the  blinding  storms  of  winter  made  the  roads  almost 
impassable  by  night,  Peter  would  await  my  departure 
from  the  hospital  with  his  lantern,  and  generally  on 
very  stormy  nights  with  an  old  horse  which  he  bor 
rowed  for  the  occasion,  savagely  cutting  short  my  re 
monstrances  with  a  cross  "  Faith,  is  it  now  or  in  the 
mornin'  ye'll  be  lavin'  ?"  He  would  limp  beside  me 
quite  to  the  door  of  my  room,  and  with  a  rough  "  Be 
aisy,  now,"  in  reply  to  my  thanks,  would  scramble  upon 
the  horse-  and  ride  back. 

"  I  know  not  is  he  far  or  near,  or  that  he  lives,  or  is 
he  dead,"  only  this,  that  my  dreams  of  the  past  are  often 


RINGGOLD.  77 

haunted  by  the  presence  of  this  brave  soldier  and  hum 
ble,  loyal  friend.  I  seem  to  see  again  the  lined  and 
rugged  face  ("  harsh,"  others  thought,  wearing  always 
for  me  a  smile  which  reminded  me  of  the  sunlight 
brightening  an  old  gray  ruin,)  and  the  toil-hardened 
hands  which  yet  served  me  so  tenderly.  I  seem  to 
hear  once  more  the  rich  Irish  brogue  which  gave  charac 
ter  and  emphasis  to  all  he  said,  a  naughty  character  and 
a  most  unpleasant  emphasis  sometimes,  I  must  admit, 
fully  appreciated  by  any  who  chanced  to  displease  him, 
but  to  me  always  as  sweet  and  pleasant  as  the  zephyrs 
blowing  from  "  the  groves  of  Blarney."  Peter  was  an 
Alabama  soldier.  On  the  first  day  of  my  installation  as 
matron  of  Buckner  Hospital,  located  then  at  Gaines 
ville,  Alabama,  after  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  I  found  him 
lying  in  one  of  the  wards  badly  wounded,  and  suffer 
ing,  as  were  many  others,  from  scurvy.  He  had  been 
morose  and  fierce  to  all  who  approached  him.  At  first 
I  fared  no  better.  "  Sure,  what  wad  a  lady  be  wantin' 
in  a  place  like  this  ?"  said  he,  crossly.  "  Why,  comrade," 
I  replied,  "  I  thought  you  would  like  to  have  a  lady  to 
nurse  you?"  "Divil  a  wan,"  growled  he,  and,  drawing 
the  coverlid  over  his  face,  refused  to  speak  again.  I 
felt  disheartened  for  the  moment,  but  after  a  consulta 
tion  with  Dr.  McAllister,  surgeon  in  charge, — than 
whom  a  better  disciplinarian  or  a  kinder-hearted  man 
never  lived, — it  was  decided  that  Peter  should  be  in 
duced  or  compelled  to  receive  my  ministrations.  For 
several  days,  however,  he  remained  sullen  and  most  un 
willing  to  be  nursed,  but  this  mood  softened,  and  long 
before  he  was  well  enough  to  leave  the  ward  the  warm 
Irish  heart  had  melted,  and  I  had  secured  a  friend  whose 
unalterable  devotion  attended  me  through  all  the  vicissi 
tudes  of  the  war. 

Being  permanently  disabled,  by  reason  of  his  wound, 
7* 


78  MEMORIES. 

from  service  in  the  field,  Peter  was  detailed  for  hospital 
service,  and  by  his  own  request  attached  to  my  special 
corps  of  assistants.  He  could  and  did  in  a  hundred 
ways  help  me  and  contribute  to  my  comfort.  No  matter 
how  many  times  I  met  him  during  the  day,  he  never 
passed  without  giving  me  a  military  salute.  If  I  was 
detained  by  the  bedside  of  one  very  ill  or  dying,  hoping 
to  save  life,  or  at  least  to  receive  and  treasure  "  for  the 
loved  ones  at  home"  some  word  or  message,  I  was  sure 
to  hear  Peter's  limping  step  and  his  loud  whisper, 
"Sure  it's  dying  he  is;  can't  ye  lave  him  in  the  hands 
av  God,  an'  go  to  your  bed?"  He  constituted  himself, 
in  many  cases,  my  mentor,  and  deeply  resented  any 
seeming  disrespect  towards  me. 

I  recall  a  case  in  point  which  highly  amused  the  whole 
"  post."  While  located  at  Ringgold,  Georgia,  it  was  con 
sidered  desirable  to  remove  some  of  the  convalescents  to 
a  camp  hospital  at  Cherokee  Springs,  some  three  miles 
out  of  town.  It  became  my  duty  to  see  these  patients 
every  evening,  and  I  rode  out  on  horseback  attended  by 
Peter.  Riding  into  camp  one  evening,  I  dismounted 
near  a  tent  in  front  of  which  a  group  of  officers  were 

standing,  in  conversation  with  Dr.  ,  of  Kentucky. 

We  exchanged  a  few  words  of  greeting  as  I  passed  on  to 
attend  to  my  patients.  Returning,  to  mount  my  horse, 
I  noticed  that  Peter  rather  rudely  pushed  before  Lieu 
tenant  ,  who  came  forward  to  assist  me.  I  also 

noticed  that  his  face  wore  the  old  sullen  look,  and  that 
his  manner  was  decidedly  unpleasant.  Before  we  had 
gone  far,  he  broke  out  with,  "  'Dade,  ma'am,  ye'll  go 
there  no  more,  if  ye  plaze."  Amazed,  I  questioned  why  ? 
"  Sure,  thim  fellers  was  makin'  game  av  ye  an'  callin' 
ye  out  av  yer  name."  "  Why,  Peter,"  cried  I,  "  you  are 
crazy  :  who  called  me  names,  and  what  did  they  call  me  ?" 
"  Thim  offshurs.  ma'am.  Sure,  I  couldn't  make  out  their 


RING  GOLD.  79 

furrin  worruds,  but  I  belave  'tis  a  sinner  they  called  ye. 
Faith,  an'  if  ye're  a  sinner,  where  wad  the  saints  be?" 
Of  course,  woman-like,  I  became  furious,  and,  on  our 
arrival  at  headquarters,  indignantly  reported  the  "  off- 
shurs"  to  the  surgeon  in  charge,  who  promised  to  in 
vestigate. 

The  sequel  is  most  amusing.    It  turned  out  that  Peter 
had  overheard  a  conversation  between  the  officers  above 

mentioned   and   Dr.   .     They   having   made   some 

kindly  remark  as  to  my  hospital  service,  Dr.  as 

kindly  replied,  "  Yes,  she  is  a  sine  qua  non."  My 
amusement  was  mingled  with  chagrin  at  my  hasty 
anger,  but  Peter  remained  unconvinced  and  never  for 
gave  the  offenders.  Upon  another  occasion  I  was  com 
pelled  to  interfere  to  protect  an  innocent  victim  of  Peter's 
wrath.  One  of  my  "  boys"  about  returning  to  his  com 
mand  came  to  take  leave  of  me  and  to  offer  a  little  keep 
sake.  This  was,  or  appeared  to  be,  a  crochet-needle 
prettily  carved  and  having  one  end  fringed  out.  I  took  it 
with  thanks,  saying,  "I  hope  I  may  use  this  needle  to 
crochet  a  pair  of  mittens  for  you."  Cried  the  donor, 
"That  ain't  no  crochet-needle."  "No?  Well,  what  is  it?" 
"It  is  a  dipping-stick;  don't  you  chaw  snuff?"  Upon 
my  indignant  denial,  the  crestfallen  man  exclaimed, 
"Well,  Lor',  lady,  I  made  sure  you  did,  you're  so  yaller 
complected"  (I  had  shortly  before  recovered  from  an 
attack  of  jaundice).  Now,  it  chanced  that  Peter, 
knowing  my  fondness  for  a  pine-knot  fire,  had  collected 
a  quantity  of  knots,  which  he  just  then  brought  in,  and, 
hearing  the  uncomplimentary  remark  of  my  soldier- 
friend,  turned  upon  him  with  the  utmost  fury,  and  such 
a  tirade  of  abuse  as  followed  baffles  alike  my  power  to 
recall  the  words  or  to  describe  the  rage  which  prompted 
them.  I  was  compelled  to  interfere  arid  order  Peter 
out  of  the  room. 


80  MEMORIES. 

"  When,  in  the  course  of  human  events,"  those  who 
for  four  years  had  shared  the  fortunes  of  war  separated 
to  seek  their  several  homes,  I  lost  sight  of  my  devoted 
friend. 

He  was  "Old  Peter"  then,  and,  in  all  probability,  no 
longer   lives,   save   in    my    memory.      If   he   be   dead, 
"peace  to  his  ashes."     If  living,  may  God   bless   and 
sustain  him  in  the  days  that  are  "full  of  trouble." 
******* 

In  the  midst  of  this  terrible  winter,  on  one  of  the 
most  bitter  days,  there  came  about  noon  an  order  from 
"  the  front"  to  prepare  for  two  hundred  sick,  who  would 
be  down  late  the  same  night.  There  was  not  a  bed  to 
spare  in  either  of  the  hospitals.  Negotiations  were  at 
once  opened  for  the  only  church  in  Ringgold  not  al 
ready  occupied  by  the  sick.  The  people  declined  to  give 
it  up.  But,  "  necessity  knows  no  law;"  it  was  seized 
by  Dr.  Thornton,  the  pews  being  taken  out  and  piled 
up  in  the  yard.  Fires  were  then  kindled  in  both  stoves 
to  thoroughly  warm  the  church.  There  was,  however, 
not  a  single  bunk, — no  time  to  make  any;  all  the  empty 
ticks  when  filled  with  straw  and  placed  upon  the  floor 
fell  far  short  of  the  number  required.  For  the  rest 
straw  was  littered  down  as  if  for  horses,  and  when  the 
pillows  gave  out,  head-rests  were  made  by  tearing  off 
the  backs  of  the  pews  and  nailing  them  slantwise  from 
the  base-board  to  the  floor,  so  that  knapsacks,  coats, 
etc.,  could  be  used  for  pillows. 

The  order  had  reached  Ringgold  about  noon ;  it"  was 
ten  at  night  before  the  rough  preparations  were  com 
pleted.  Meantime,  such  nourishment  as  hot  soup,  coffee, 
and  tea,  milk,  egg-nog,  and  milk-punch  (prepared  with 
home-made  peach  or  apple  brandy),  were  kept  in  readi 
ness.  Near  midnight  I  stood  in  the  church  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  the  train.  Candles  were  scarce,  but  light- 


RINGGOLD.  81 

wood-fires  outside  gave  sufficient  light.  The  candles 
were  not  to  be  used  until  needed  by  the  surgeons,  who 
were  now  at  the  depot  waiting  to  receive  the  sick.  At 
last  the  train  arrived, — departed;  shortly  thereafter 
there  poured  through  the  doors  of  that  little  church  a 
train  of  human  misery  such  as  I  never  saw  before  or 
afterward  during  the  war,  and  pray  God  I  may  never 
see  again.  Until  that  night  the  tale  of  the  retreat  from 
Moscow  had  seemed  to  me  overdrawn ;  ever  since  I  can 
well  believe  "  the  half  has  not  been  told."  They  came, 
each  revealing  some  form  of  acute  disease,  some  totter 
ing,  but  still  on  their  feet,  others  borne  on  stretchers. 
Exhausted  by  forced  marches  over  interminable  miles  of 
frozen  ground  or  jagged  rocks,  destitute  of  rations,  dis 
couraged  by  failure,  these  poor  fellows  had  cast  away 
one  burden  after  another  until  they  had  not  clothes 
sufficient  to  shield  them  from  the  chilling  blasts  of 
winter.  Not  one  in  twenty  had  saved  even  a  haversack, 
many  having  discarded  coats  and  jackets.  One  man 
had  gained  possession  of  an  india-rubber  overcoat, 
which,  excepting  his  underclothing,  was  his  only  gar 
ment.  Barefooted, — their  feet  were  swollen  frightfully, 
and  seamed  with  fissures  so  large  that  one  might  lay  a 
finger  in  them.  These  were  dreadfully  inflamed,  and 
bled  at  the  slightest  touch;  others  were  suppurating. 
The  feet  of  some  presented  a  shining,  inflamed  surface 
which  seemed  ready  to  burst  at  any  moment.  Their 
hands  were  just  as  bad,  covered  with  chilblains  and 
sores.  Many  were  tortured  with  wounds  which  had  at 
first  seemed  slight,  but  by  neglect  and  exposure  had 
become  sources  of  exquisite  torture.  The  gleaming  • 
eyes,  matted  hair  and  beard  hanging  about  their 
cadaverous  faces,  gave  to  these  men  a  wild,  ghastly  look 
utterly  indescribable.  As  they  came  in,  many  sunk  ex 
hausted  upon  the  pallets,  some  falling  at  once  into  a 


82  MEMORIES. 

deep  sleep,  from  which  it  was  impossible  to  arouse  them, 
others  able  only  to  assume  a  sitting  posture  on  account 
of  the  racking,  rattling  cough  which,  when  reclining, 
threatened  to  suffocate  them.  Few  would  stop  to  be 
undressed :  food  and  rest  were  all  they  craved.  Those 
who  crowded  to  the  stoves  soon  began  to  suffer  from 
their  frozen  feet  and  hands,  and  even  ran  out  into  the 
snow  to  ease  their  pain.  The  surgeons  worked  faith 
fully,  and  the  whole  force  was  in  requisition.  But,  alas  I 
alas !  death  also  was  busy  among  these  unfortunates. 
The  very  first  man  I  essayed  to  feed  died  in  my  arms, 
two  others  during  the  night.  The  poor  wounded  feet 
I  tried  to  handle  so  tenderly  bled  at  every  touch.  The 
warmth  of  the  room,  while  it  sent  some  into  a  sound 
sleep  which  seemed  death's  counterpart,  caused  terrible 
agony  to  others,  who  groaned  and  screamed.  It  seemed 
to  me  just  as  if  these  men,  having  previously  kept  up 
with  heroic  fortitude  under  trials  almost  too  great  for 
human  endurance,  had,  as  soon  as  the  terrible  tension 
was  loosened,  utterly  succumbed,  forgetting  all  but  the 
horrible  pain  that  racked  them. 

Fever  running  riot  in  the  veins  of  some  found  ex 
pression  in  delirious  shouts  and  cries,  which  added  to  the 
horror.  My  courage  almost  failed  me.  About  half-past 
two,  Dr.  Thornton,  yielding  to  my  earnest  entreaties, 
went  home  and  brought  Mrs.  Thornton  to  share  my  vigil, 
although,  as  a  general  thing,  he  was  opposed  to  her  going 
into  the  hospital  wards.  Together  we  labored  through 
that  long  night.  Soon  after  daylight  next  morning, 
passing  into  the  church  porch,  we  stood  for  a  few  mo 
ments  silently,  hand  in  hand,  for,  although  both  hearts 
were  too  full  for  speech,  our  labor  of  love  had  drawn  us 
very  near  together. 

Everywhere  the  snow  lay  white  and  glittering.  In 
the  church-yard,  upon  some  of  the  pews  arranged  for 


RING  GOLD,  83 

the  purpose,  bad  been  placed  tbe  lifeless  bodies  of  tbe 
three  men  who  had  died  during  the  night.  There  they 
lay,  stark  and  stiff.  Upon  these  cold,  dead  faces  no 
mourners'  tears  would  fall ;  no  friends  would  bear  with 
reverend  tread  these  honored  forms  to  their  last  resting- 
place.  Eough  pine  boxes  would  soon  cover  the  faces 
once  the  light  of  some  far-away  home,  careless  hands 
would  place  them  in  their  shallow  graves,  without  a 
prayer,  without  a  tear.  Only  the  loving  hand  of  nature 
to  plant  flowers  above  them. 

For  months  after  entering  the  service  I  insisted  upon 
attending  every  dead  soldier  to  the  grave  and  reading 
over  him  a  part  of  the  burial-service.  But  it  had  now 
become  impossible.  The  dead  were  past  help  ;  the  living 
always  needed  succor.  But  no  soldier  ever  died  in  my 
presence  without  a  whispered  prayer  to  comfort  his 
parting  soul.  Ah  me!  The  "prayers  for  the  sick,  and 
those  near  unto  death,"  are  to  this  day  more  familiar  to 
me  than  any  other  portion  of  the  Prayer-Book,  and  at 
no  time  can  I  hear  unmoved  the  sacred  old  hymns  so 
often  sung  beside  dying  beds.  Passing  to  my  office 
along  the  path  traversed  last  night  by  the  incoming 
soldiers,  I  found  the  snow  along  the  whole  distance 
stained  by  their  bare,  bleeding  feet,  and  the  sight  made 
my  heart  ache  sorely.  I  think  I  never  in  all  my  life  felt 
so  keen  a  sense  of  utter  dependence  upon  a  higher 
Power,  or  understood  so  thoroughly  how  "  vain  is  the 
help  of  man,"  than  when,  in  the  seclusion  of  my  own 
room,  the  events  of  the  night  passed  in  review  before 
me.  With  a  heart  aching  with  supreme  pity,  ready  to 
make  any  sacrifice  for  the  noble  martyrs  who,  for  my 
sake  as  well  as  for  that  of  all  Southern  women,  had 
passed  unshrinking  through  inexpressible  suffering,  never 
faltering  until  laid  low  by  the  hand  of  disease, — I  could 
yet  do  nothing.  I  could  not  save  them  one  moment  of 


84  MEMORIES, 

agony,  I  could  not  stay  the  fleeting  breath,  nor  might  I 
intermit  the  unceasing  care  imperatively  demanded  by 
those  whom  timely  ministrations  might  save,  to  give  due 
honor  to  the  dead. 

Only  an  hour  or  two  of  rest  (broken  like  the  sleep  of 
those  of  a  household  who  retire  from  the  side  of  beloved 
sufferers,  leaving  them  to  the  care  of  others  while  they 
snatch  a  few  moments  of  the  repose  which  is  needed  to 
prepare  them  for  fresh  exertions)  and  I  was  once  more 
on  my  way  to  the  wards.  At  the  gate  of  the  boarding- 
house  stood  one  of  the  nurses.  Again,  as  often  before, 
I  was  summoned  to  a  bed  of  death.  A  soldier  who  had 
come  in  only  two  days  before  almost  in  the  last  stages 
of  pneumonia  was  now  dying.  I  had  left  him  at  eight 
o'clock  the  night  before  very  ill,  but  sleeping  under  the 
influence  of  an  opiate.  His  agony  was  now  too  terrible 
for  any  alleviation ;  but  he  had  sent  for  me  ;*  so  I  stood 
beside  him,  answering  by  every  possible  expression  of 
sympathy  his  imploring  glances  and  the  frantic  clasp  of 
his  burning  hand.  Finding  that  my  presence  was  a 
comfort,  I  sent  for  Dr.  McAllister,  and,  requesting  him  to 
assign  my  duties  to  some  one  else  for  a  while,  remained 
at  my  post,  yielding  to  the  restraining  grasp  which  to 
the  very  last  arrested  every  movement  away  from  the 
side  of  the  sufferer.  A  companion  of  the  sick  man  lay 
near.  From  him  I  learned  the  excellent  record  of  this 
3^oung  soldier,  who,  during  the  frightful  "retreat,"  had 
contracted  the  cold  which  culminated  in  pneumonia,  but 
would  not  consent  to  leave  his  regiment  until  too  late. 

I  had  feared  an  awful  struggle  at  the  last,  but  the 
death  angel  was  pitiful,  bringing  surcease  of  suffering ; 
and  so,  peacefully  sped  the  soul  of  John  Grant,  of  the 

Mississippi  Regiment,  happily  unconscious  of  the 

end,  and  murmuring  with  his  last  breath,  of  home  and 
mother. 


R1NOOOLD.  85 

I  remember  with  great  distinctness  his  face, — suffering 
while  he  yet  struggled  with  death, — happy  and  tran 
quil,  when  he  stood  upon  the  threshold  of  life  eternal. 
Almost  the  very  saddest  and  most  trying  portion  of  my 
Confederate  service  was  just  here.  Only  that  my  record 
must  be  faithful,  I  would  fain  bid  memory  pass  with 
flying  feet  and  veiled  eyes  over  the  scenes  of  that  terrible 
winter  at  Kinggold,  when  my  very  soul  was  steeped  in 
pity  so  painful  that  every  night  I  was  fain  to  cry  out, 
"It  is  too  hard!  I  cannot  bear  it!"  and  every  morning 
my  heart,  yearning  over  "  my  boys,"  gave  itself  with 
renewed  ardor  to  "  the  Cause"  and  its  defenders. 

Eeturning  to  my  patients  in  the  church  about  noon,  I 
found  a  change  for  the  better  in  many  cases ;  in  others 
it  was  but  too  evident  that  days,  even  hours,  were 
numbered.  Two  soldiers  in  particular  attracted  my  at 
tention.  One  was  an  Irishman,  of  an  Alabama  regiment, 
the  other  from  Arkansas.  The  Irishman  was  fast  pass 
ing  away,  and  earnestly  desired  to  see  a  priest.  There 
was  none  nearer  than  twelve  miles.  One  of  our  foragers, 
himself  a  Eoman  Catholic,  volunteered  to  go  for  him 
and  by  permission  of  Dr.  McAllister  rode  off  through  the 

snow,  returning  after  nightfall  to  report  that  Father 

had  been  called  in  another  direction,  and  would  not 
return  home  until  the  next  day.  Finding  the  poor  fel 
low,  though  almost  too  far  gone  to  articulate,  constantly 
murmuring  words  of  prayer,  I  took  his  prayer-book 
and  read  aloud  the  "  Recommendation  of  a  soul  depart 
ing,"  also  some  of  the  preceding  prayers  of  the  "  Litany 
for  the  d}Ting."  He  faintly  responded,  and  seemed  to  die 
comforted  and  satisfied.  Afterwards  I  never  hesitated 
to  use  the  same  service  in  like  cases. 

The  Arkansian  was  a  devoted  soldier  and  a  pronounced 
"  rebel."  He  had  preserved  through  all  vicissitudes  a 
small  Confederate  flag,  made  for  him  by  his  little  daughter 

8 


86  MEMORIES. 

"Annie,"  now  alas  torn  and  shattered.  When  he  came 
into  the  church  on  that  terrible  night,  although  almost 
destitute  of  clothing,  he  bore  the  flag  safely  pinned  inside 
of  his  ragged  flannel  shirt.  A  few  days  afterwards  I 
found  the  poor,  emaciated  frame  propped  up  in  bed,  with 
a  crumpled  sheet  of  paper  spread  upon  a  piece  of  pine 
board  before  him,  while,  with  unaccustomed  hand  and 
unaccustomed  brain,  he  toiled  over  some  verses  of  poetry 
addressed  to  "  Annie."  After  a  week  or  two,  when  he 
lay  dying,  I  received  from  his  hand  the  flag  and  the 
verses  pinned  together,  and  addressed  to  "  Miss  Annie 

,"  in  some  part  of  Arkansas;  but  as  I  hoped  to 

retain,  and  finally  to  deliver  safely,  the  articles  so  ad 
dressed,  I  did  not  tax  my  memory  with  it,  and  when 
afterwards,  in  Macon,  all  my  belongings  were  taken  by 
the  raiders,  I  had  nothing  left  to  recall  the  name,  and 
only  remember  one  of  the  verses,  which  ran  thus : 

"  Your  father  fought  under  this  flag, 

This  bonny  flag  so  true, 
And  many  a  time,  amidst  the  fray, 

The  bullets  whistled  through 

So,  Annie,  keep  the  flag." 

The  verses  were  headed,  "Annie,  Keep  the  Flag,"  and 
each  one  ended  with  the  same  words. 

The  sad  days  of  winter  passed  slowly  away ;  with  the 
spring  came  changes.  Dr.  Thornton  was  ordered  to  an 
other  post  (I  had  forgotten  just  where),  and  of  course 
Mrs.  Thornton  accompanied  him.  Everybody  connected 
with  the  post  regretted  their  departure,  especially  the 
loss  of  Mrs.  Thornton,  who  was  a  general  favorite.  We 
had  not  ceased  to  miss  her  when  tidings  came  of  Dr. 
Thornton's  death,  and  of  the  wild  grief  of  the  stricken 
wife,  which  resisted  all  control.  A  messenger  had  been 
despatched  to  call  me  to  her  side.  I  found  her  clinging 
to  the  body  of  her  murdered  husband,  stained  with  his 


RINQOOLD.  87 

blood,  yet  resisting  all  attempts  to  remove  her.  Dr. 
Thornton  having  severely  punished  a  case  of  insubor 
dination,  the  culprit  swore  vengeance,  and  had  fulfilled 
his  oath  in  a  most  complete  though  cowardly  manner. 
Just  after  dark,  as  the  doctor  was  sitting  at  supper  with 
his  wife,  a  voice  at  the  gate  called  his  name.  He  an 
swered  the  summons  at  once,  followed  closely  by  Mrs. 
Thornton,  who,  standing  upon  the  doorsteps,  saw  and 
heard  the  murderous  blow  which  laid  him  dead  at  her 
feet,  stabbed  to  the  heart.  For  many  hours  horror  and 
grief  dethroned  the  reason  of  the  wife.  After  I  had 
persuaded  her  to  go  to  her  room,  she  continually  in 
sisted  upon  washing  her  hands,  which  she  shudderingly 
declared  were  red  with  his  blood.  Subsequently  she 
struggled  successfully  for  composure,  pitifully  saying, 
"  He  liked  me  to  be  brave ;  I  will  try"  and  with  remark 
able  fortitude  she  bore  up  through  the  trying  ordeal 
which  followed.  In  my  ministration  to  Mrs.  Thornton 
I  was  assisted  by  a  lady  whoso  name  is  well  known  and 
well  beloved  by  the  soldiers  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee, 
— Mrs.  Frank  Newsome.  Of  remarkable  beauty,  sweet 
and  gentle  manners,  deeply  religious,  and  carrying  the 
true  spirit  of  religion  into  her  work,  hers  was  indeed  an 
angelic  ministry.  We  had  never  met  before,  but  in  the 
days  of  my  early  girlhood  I  had  known  her  husband, 
Frank  Newsome,  of  Arkansas,  who,  with  Randal  Gibson, 
of  Louisiana,  Tom  Brahan,  of  Alabama,  and  my  own  hus 
band  (then  my  lover),  studied  together  under  a  tutor  in 
preparation  for  the  junior  class  of  Yale  College  ;  they 
were  room-mates  at  a  house  in  the  same  village  where 
my  mother  resided,  and  I  had  known  them  very  well. 
Dr.  Newsome  had  died  some  time  before,  but  his  having 
once  been  my  friend  proved  a  bond  of  sympathy  be 
tween  his  widow  and  myself.  Although  our  pleasant 
intercourse  was  never  again  renewed,  I  continued 


88  MEMORIES. 

through  the  years  of  the  war  to  hear  accounts  of  Mrs. 
Newsome's  devotion  to  the  Confederate  soldiers.  Duty 
requiring  my  presence  at  the  hospital,  I  was  compelled 
to  leave  Mrs.  Thornton,  who  soon  after  returned  to 
Kentucky.  I  never  met  her  again,  but  remember  her 
with  unchanged  affection. 

Dr.  Gamble,  of  Tallahassee,  Florida,  succeeded  Dr. 
Thornton  as  surgeon  of  the  post  at  Einggold.  He  was 
one  of  the  most  thorough  gentlemen  I  ever  knew,  as 
courteous  to  the  humblest  soldier  as  to  General  Bragg, 
who  was  then  and  during  the  summer  a  frequent  visitor. 
His  wife  lay  for  some  months  very  ill  at  some  point 
near  Einggold.  Mrs.  Gamble,  who,  with  her  lovely 
children,  was  domiciled  at  Cherokee  Springs,  three  miles 
distant,  was  also  a  delightful  addition  to  our  little  circle. 
She  was  thoroughly  accomplished,  of  charming  manners, 
although  perfectly  frank  and  outspoken.  Her  musical 
talent  was  exceptional,  and  her  lovely  voice,  coined  into 
Confederate  money,  was  freely  given  in  aid  of  all  chari 
table  objects.  She  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  my  office, 
walking  into  town  in  the  evening  to  ride  out  with  her 
husband.  During  the  summer,  Mrs.  Eragg  passed  many 
days  of  convalescence  at  the  lovely  cottage-home  of  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Gamble,  at  Cherokee  Springs,  but  she  was 
quite  too  feeble  to  come  into  town  very  often.  Ee- 
ligious  services  were  frequently  held  in  the  beautiful 
grove  at  the  Springs ;  these  I  attended  as  often  as  I 
could  be  spared,  Mrs.  Gamble  always  sending  for  me 
and  sending  me  back  in  the  ambulance.  Later  a  con 
valescent  camp  was  established  there,  and  then  I  rode 
out  on  horseback  every  evening  to  look  after  my  "  boys," 
until  the  transfer  of  Dr.  Lee  as  surgeon  in  charge  and 
Mrs.  Lee  as  matron  rendered  my  services  no  longer 
necessary.  Very  pleasant  memories  cluster  about  the 
room  in  the  court-house  at  Einggold  assigned  to  my 


RINQOOLD.  89 

special  use.  i  often  seem  to  hear  once  more  the  sweet 
music  of  "  General  Blandner's  lute,"  sometimes  accom 
panied  by  the  clear  soprano  of  Mrs.  Gamble,  sometimes 
by  our  blended  voices.  I  remember  as  distinctly  as  if 
it  were  only  yesterday  the  kindly  faces  and  cheerful 
voices  that  smiled  upon  and  greeted  me  as  I  ran  in 
from  the  wards  to  take  a  few  moments'  rest.  I  had 
collected  and  kept  on  the  shelves  in  my  office  a  great 
many  books  for  the  use  of  convalescents,  who  were  my 
most  constant  visitors. '  The  mantelpiece  was  decorated 
with  articles  of  curious  workmanship  and  miracles  of 
beautiful  carving  (the  gifts  of  my  patients),  variously  in 
scribed.  There  were  cups  and  saucers,  with  vines  run 
ning  over  and  around  them,  boxes  which  simulated 
books,  paper-cutters,  also  rings  made  of  gutta-percha 
buttons,  with  silver  hearts  let  in  like  mosaic.  I  was 
as  proud  of  them  as  a  queen  of  her  crown-jewels,  and 
always  kept  them  on  exhibition  with  the  precious  notes 
of  presentation  attached.  Had  I  retained  possession  of 
these  treasures,  I  would  have  proudly  bequeathed  them 
to  my  children;  but,  alas!  these,  like  everything  else, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  raiders.  Many  officers  of  distinc 
tion  visited  my  little  sanctum, — not  only  surgeons  from 
other  posts,  but  men  of  military  distinction,  clergymen, 
and  .others.  General  Bragg  came  frequently  for  a  time, 
also  Bishop  Beckwith,  and  many  others  whose  faces 
come  to  me  while  their  names  elude  the  grasp  of 
memory.  I  welcomed  them  all  alike,  for  I  have  never 
felt  a  prouder  heart-throb  in  the  presence  of  an  officer, 
no  matter  how  exalted  his  rank,  than  while  viewing 
the  "shadowy  forms  of  my  convalescents  or  answering 
their  earnest  greetings  as  they  passed  in  and  out  of  my 
office,  or  rested  awhile  in  my  one  easy-chair,  or,  still 
better,  came  with  buoyant  step  and  bright  eyes  to  bid 
me  farewell  when  ready  to  report  for  duty,  never  fail- 

8* 


90  MEMORIES. 

ing  to  leave  with  me  the  "  God  bless  you  1"  so  precious  to 
my  soul. 

Some  of  the  poor  fellows  who  were  wounded  at  the 
battle  of  Murfreesboro'  now  began  to  suffer  from  gan 
grene.  Tents  were  pitched  outside  the  hospital  for 
such  cases,  and  it  was  often  my  fate  to  stand  beside 
these  sufferers  while  the  surgeon  removed  unhealthy 
granulation  with  instruments  or  eating  acids,  or  in 
other  ways  tortured  the  poor  fellows  to  save  life. 

The  establishment  of  an  officers'  ward  added  to  my 
cares.  As  in  most  cases  they  were  waited  upon  by  their 
own  servants,  I  could  do  a  great  deal  by  proxy.  If  any 
were  very  ill,  however,  as  often  was  the  case,  I  attended 
them  myself.  Among  those  whom  I  nursed  in  Kinggold 
was  Captain  E.  John  Ellis,  of  Louisiana.  If  I  am  not 
mistaken,  he  had  been  slightly  wounded  at  the  battle  of 
Murfreesboro'.  At  any  rate,  he  was  for  a  time  very  ill 
of  pneumonia,  and  received  all  his  nourishment  from 
my  hand.  Often  since  the  war,  as  I  have  seen  him 
standing  with  majestic  mien  and  face  aglow  with  grand 
and  lofty  thoughts,  or  have  listened  spellbound  to 
the  thrilling  utterances  of  "the  silver-tongued  orator," 
memory,  bidding  me  follow,  has  led  me  back  to  a  lowly 
room  where,  bending  over  a  couch  of  pain,  I  saw  the 
same  lips,  fevered  and  wan,  open  feebly  to  receive  a  few 
spoonfuls  of  nourishment.  "Aye!  and  that  tongue  of 
his  which  now  bids  nation  mark  him  and  write  his 
speeches  in  their  books"  cried  faintly,  "  Give  me  some 
drink." 

Captain  Ellis  recovered  rapidly,  but  insisted  on  re 
joining  his  command  while  yet  pale  and  weak. 

The  incident  I  shall  here  relate  is  intended  to  illus 
trate  and  emphasize  the  thoroughly  gentlemanly  quali 
ties  of  our  Southern  soldiers,  their  unvarying  respect 
and  courtesy  toward  women,  and  their  entire  apprecia- 


RINOGOLD.  91 

tion  and  perfect  understanding  of  my  own  position  among 
them.  I  presume  all  will  comprehend  my  meaning  when 
I  assure  them  that  the  occasion  referred  to  was  the  only 
one  during  four  years  of  service  when  even  an  unpleas 
antness  occurred.  In  the  same  ward  with  Captain  Ellis 

were  three  officers, — one,  Colonel ,  of  Alabama  (very 

ill),  another  just  able  to  sit  up,  and  one,  Lieutenant  Cox, 
of  Mississippi,  only  suffering  from  a  bad  cold  which  had 
threatened  pneumonia.  My  constant  habit  was  to  carry 
into  the  wards  a  little  basket  containing  pieces  of  fresh 
linen,  sponges,  and  a  bottle  of  Confederate  bay-water 
(vinegar).  Invariably  I  bathed  the  faces  and  hands  of 
the  fever-patients  with  vinegar  and  water,  but  as  soon 
as  they  were  well  enough  to  dispense  with  it  gave  it  up. 
One  day,  upon  entering  the  ward  above  mentioned,  I 
found  Captain  Ellis  up  and  standing  before  the  fire,  his 
back  towards  it.  It  struck  me  at  once  that  he  looked 
worried,  and  at  the  same  time  appeared  to  be  strug 
gling  between  vexation  and  a  desire  to  laugh.  Lieuten 
ant  Cox  was  covered  up  in  bed,  rolling  and  holding  his 
head,  seemingly  in  dreadful  agony.  Approaching,  I 
asked  a  question  or  two  regarding  his  sudden  seizure, 
but  he  only  cried,  "  Oh,  my  head  !  my  head  !"  at  the  same 
time  shaking  as  if  with  a  violent  chill.  Turning  down 
the  sheet,  I  placed  my  hand  upon  his  head,  which  was 
quite  cool.  As  soon  as  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face, 
I  saw  that  he  was  laughing,  and,  glancing  at  the  others, 
realized  that  all  were  full  of  some  joke.  Drawing  my 
self  up  haughtily,  I  said,  "I  see  I  have  made  a  mistake; 
I  came  here  to  nurse  gentlemen;  I  shall  not  again  lend 
myself  to  your  amusement,"  and  out  I  swept,  nor  ever 
while  in  Ringgold  entered  the  officers'  quarters  again, 
except  to  nurse  very  sick  or  dying  men.  It  seems  that 
Lieutenant  Cox  had  received  a  box  from  home  con 
taining,  among  other  dainties,  a  bottle  of  home-made 


92  MEMORIES. 

wine.  One  day  he  said  to  the  other  occupants  of  the 
ward,  "  Mrs.  Beers  never  bathes  my  head.  I  believe  I'll 
get  up  a  spell  of  fever,  and  see  if  I  can't  get  nursed 
like  you  other  fellows."  The  others  declared  that  he 
could  not  deceive  me,  and  ho  offered  to  bet  the  bottle  of 
wine  that  he  would  have  me  bathe  his  head  at  my  next 
visit.  The  result  has  been  described.  I  had  hardly 
reached  my  office,  when  a  special  patient  and  friend  of 
mine,  Charlie  Gazzan,  of  Mobile,  Alabama,  arrived  with 
an  apology  from  Lieutenant  Cox,  a  few  words  of  explan 
ation  from  Captain  Ellis,  signed  by  all  the  officers  in  the 
ward,  and  the  bottle  of  wine,  sent  for  my  acceptance.  I 
would  not  accept  the  wine  or  read  the  note,  and  in  this 
course  I  was  upheld  by  Dr.  McAllister,  who  severely 
reprimanded  Lieutenant  Cox,  and  excused  me  from 
future  attendance  upon  that  ward. 

I  have  said  that  Charlie  Gazzan  was  a  special  patient 
and  friend;  perhaps  the  expression  needs  explanation. 
A  few  weeks  before,  he  had  been  brought  to  me  one 
night  from  the  ambulance-train,  a  living  skeleton,  and 
seemingly  at  the  point  of  death  from  dysentery.  His 
family  and  that  of  my  husband  were  residents  of 
Mobile,  Alabama,  and  intimate  friends.  He  seemed 
almost  in  the  agony  of  death,  but  had  asked  to  be 
brought  to  me.  There  was  not,  after  the  battle  of  Mur- 
freesboro',  a  single  vacant  bed.  He  begged  hard  not  to 
be  put  in  a  crowded  ward,  so,  until  I  could  do  better,  he 
was  placed  upon  the  lounge  in  my  office.  One  small 
room  in  the  officers'  ward  being  vacant,  I  asked  and 
obtained  next  day  the  privilege  of  placing  him  there. 
He  recovered  very  slowly,  but  surely,  and  during  his 
convalescence  made  himself  useful  in  a  hundred  ways. 
My  sick  boys  owed  many  a  comfort  to  his  wonderful 
powers  of  invention ;  even  the  surgeons  availed  them 
selves  of  his  skill.  He  often  relieved  me  of  a  task  I 


R1NQQOLD.  93 

had  sometimes  found  very  wearisome,  because  so  con 
stantly  recurring, — that  of  writing  letters  for  the  sick. 
He  made  his  own  pens  and  his  own  ink,  of  a  deep  green 
color,  and  seemingly  indelible.  A  more  gentle,  kindly, 
generous  nature  never  existed,  and  yet  his  soldierly 
instincts  were  strong,  and  almost  before  he  could  walk 
about  well  he  "  reported  for  duty,"  but  was  soon  rele 
gated  to  his  room  and  to  special  diet. 

Spring  proved  hardly  less  disagreeable  in  Upper 
Georgia  than  winter  had  been.  The  mud  was  horrible, 
and  I  could  not  avoid  it,  as  the  wards  were  detached, 
occupying  all  together  a  very  wide  space.  The  pony 
was  no  longer  available,  because  he  splashed  mud  all 
over  me.  Old  Peter  brought  me  one  day  an  immense 
pair  of  boots  large  enough  for  me  to  jump  into  when 
going  from  one  place  to  another,  and  to  jump  out  of 
and  leave  at  the  entrance  of  the  sick  wards.  With 
these,  an  army  blanket  thrown  over  my  shoulders  and 
pinned  with  a  thorn,  and  my  dress  kilted  up  like  a 
washerwoman's,  I  defied  alike  the  liquid  streets  and  the 
piercing  wind.  My  "  nursery"  was  at  this  time  filled  to 
overflowing.  My  mind's  eye  takes  in  every  nook  and 
corner  of  that  large  room.  It  is  very  strange,  but  true, 
that  I  remember  the  position  of  each  bed  and  the  faces 
of  those  who  lay  there  at  different  times.  As  I  said 
before,  they  were  principally  the  youngest  patients,  or 
those  requiring  constant  supervision.  I  seem  to  see 
them  now,  lying  pale  and  worn,  their  hollow  eyes  look 
ing  up  at  me  as  I  fed  them  or  following  with  wistful 
gaze  my  movements  about  the  ward.  Some  bear  ghastly 
wounds,  others  sit  upon  the  side  of  the  bed,  trembling 
with  weakness,  yet  smiling  proudly  because  they  can  do 
so  much,  and  promising  soon  to  pay  me  a  visit  down 
stairs,  "  if  I  can  make  it ;  but  I'm  powerful  weak  right 
now."  I  remember  two  brave  Texas  boys,  brothers, 


94  MEMORIES. 

both  wounded  at  Murfreesboro',  who  lay  side  by  side  in 
this  ward.  One  of  them  was  only  fifteen  years  old. 
When  he  was  brought  in,  it  was  found  that  a  minie- 
ball  had  penetrated  near  the  eye,  and  remained  in  the 
wound,  forcing  the  eye  entirely  from  the  socket,  causing 
the  greatest  agony.  At  first  it  was  found  difficult  to 
extract  it,  and  it  proved  a  most  painful  operation.  I 
stood  by,  and  his  brother  had  his  cot  brought  close  so 
that  he  could  hold  his  other  hand.  Not  a  groan  did  the 
brave  boy  utter,  but  when  it  Was  over,  and  the  eye 
replaced  and  bandaged,  he  said,  "  Doctor,  how  soon  can  1 
go  bach  to  my  regiment?"  Poor  boy!  he  did  go  back 
in  time  to  participate  in  the  battle  of  Chickamauga, 
where  he  met  his  death.  Twenty  years  after,  I  met  his 
brother  at  a  reunion  of  Confederate  soldiers,  in  Dallas, 
Texas,  and  he  could  hardly  tell  me  for  weeping  that 
Eddie  had  been  shot  down  at  his  side  while  gallantly 

charging  with  the Texas  Cavalry.     Another  youth, 

Eoundtree,  of  Alabama,  lingered  in  that  ward  for 

many  weeks,  suffering  from  dysentery,  and,  I  believe, 
was  finally  discharged. 

Dr.  Gore,  of  Kentucky,  took  the  deepest  interest  in 
my  nursery,  and  sometimes  asked  permission  to  place 
young  friends  of  his  own  there,  a  compliment  which 
I  highly  appreciated.  Dr.  Gore  was  one  of  Nature's 
noblemen.  In  his  large,  warm  heart  there  seemed  to 
bo  room  for  everybody.  His  interest  in  his  patients 
was  very  keen,  and  his  skill  greatly  enhanced  by  extreme 
tenderness  and  unfailing  attention.  He  was  an  earnest 
Christian  (a  Methodist,  I  believe),  but  upon  one  occasion 
I  saw  him  so  excited  and  distressed  that  he  "  fell  from 
grace,"  and  gave  vent  to  a  fearful  imprecation.  He  had 
brought  to  me  a  boy  of  seventeen  very  ill  of  dysentery. 
For  days  it  seemed  that  he  must  die.  Dr.  Gore  and  I 
watched  him  and  nursed  him  as  if  he  had  been  very 


RING  GOLD.  95 

near  and  dear.  A  slight  improvement  showed  itself  at 
last,  and  of  course  his  craving  for  food  was  insatiate. 
As  this  was  a  special  ward,  the  nurses  had  been  forbidden 
to  admit  visitors  without  a  permit,  and  no  stranger  was 
ever  allowed  to  feed  the  patients  except  when  some 
particularly  nourishing  and  suitable  food  was  brought, 
when  I  used  to  take  a  great  delight  in  the  mutual 
pleasure  of  patient  and  visitor,  hardly  knowing  which 
was  more  happy,  the  giver  or  receiver.  Our  sick  boy 
continually  craved  and  talked  about  some  "  apple  turn 
overs"  such  as  his  mother  used  to  make,  but  of  course  was 
denied.  One  day,  during  my  absence,  an  old  lady  gained 
access  to  the  ward,  and  when  she  heard  the  boy's  de 
sire  for  "  turn-overs"  promised  him  some.  The  next  day 
she  found  an  opportunity  to  keep  her  promise.  At  mid 
night,  Dr.  G-ore  and  I  having  been  hastily  summoned, 
met  at  the  bedside  of  the  poor  fellow,  who  was  in  a 
state  of  collapse,  and  died  before  morning.  Dr.  Gore  was 
so  overcome  that  he  actually  wept.  The  boy  had  been 
a  patient  of  his  from  his  infancy,  and  in  a  piteous  letter, 
which  I  afterwards  read,  his  mother  had  implored  the 
doctor  to  watch  over  him  in  case  of  sickness.  When, 
under  the  dead  boy's  pillow,  was  found  a  portion  of  the 
apple-pie,  revealing  the  cause  of  his  death,  the  doctor's 
anger  knew  no  bounds,  and  he  gave  vent  to  the  impre 
cation  above  mentioned. 

As  the  summer  waned,  our  commissary  stores  began 
to  fail.  Eations,  always  plain,  became  scant.  Our  for 
agers  met  with  little  success.  But  for  the  patriotic 
devotion  of  the  families  whose  farms  and  plantations 
lay  for  miles  around  Ringgold  (soon,  alas !  to  fall  into 
the  ruthless  hands  of  the  enemy),  even  our  sickest  men 
would  have  been  deprived  of  suitable  food.  As  it  was, 
the  supply  was  by  no  means  sufficient.  One  day  I  asked 
permission  to  try  my  fortune  at  foraging,  and,  having 


96  MEMORIES. 

received  it,  left  Einggold  at  daylight  next  morning, 
returning  by  moonlight.  Stopping  at  every  house  and 
home,  I  told  everywhere  my  tale  of  woe.  There  was 
scarcely  one  where  hearths  were  not  lonely,  hearts 
aching  for  dear  ones  long  since  gone  forth  to  battle. 
They  had  heard  mischievous  and  false  tales  of  the  sur 
geons  and  attendants  of  hospitals,  and  really  believed 
that  the  sick  were  starved  and  neglected,  while  the 
hospital  staff  feasted  upon  dainty  food.  Occasionally, 
perhaps,  they  had  listened  to  the  complaint  of  some 
"  hospital  rat,"  who,  at  the  first  rumor  of  an  approaching 
battle,  had  experienced  "  a  powerful  misery"  in  the  place 
where  a  brave  heart  should  have  been,  and,  flying  to  the 
rear,  doubled  up  with  rheumatism  and  out-groaning  all 
the  victims  of  real  sickness  or  horrible  wounds,  had 
remained  huddled  up  in  bed  until  danger  was  over. 
After  having  been  deceived  a  few  times  by  these  cowards, 
I  became  expert  at  recognizing  them,  and  paid  them  no 
attention  whatever.  I  really  believe  that  in  some  cases 
it  was  a  physical  impossibility  for  men  to  face  the  guns 
on  a  battle-field,  and  I  have  known  instances  of  soldiers 
who  deliberately  shot  off  their  own  fingers  to  escape  a 
fight.  These  men  were  conscious  of  their  own  defects, 
and  often,  smarting  under  a  knowledge  that  the  blister 
ing,  purging,  and  nauseating  process  pursued  in  such 
cases  by  the  surgeons  was  intended  as  a  punishment, 
grew  ugly  and  mischievous,  seeking  revenge  by  malign 
ing  those  in  authority.  I  do  not  know  what  abuses 
may  have  existed  in  other  hospitals  of  the  Confederacy ; 
I  can,  however,  say  with  entire  truth  that  I  never  saw 
or  heard  of  a  more  self-sacrificing  set  of  men  than  the 
surgeons  I  met  and  served  under  during  the  war.  With 
only  two  exceptions,  they  were  devoted  to  their  patients, 
and  as  attentive  as  in  private  practice  or  as  the  immense 
number  of  sick  allowed  them  to  be.  These  exceptions 


RINGGOLD.  97 

were  both  men  who  were  unwilling  to  get  up  at  night, 
and  if  called  were  fearfully  cross.  At  one  time  I  had  a 
fierce  contest  with  a  surgeon  of  this  kind,  and  fought  it 
out,  coming  off  victorious.  I  was  called  up  one  night  to 
see  a  patient  who  had  required  and  received  the  closest 
attention,  but  who  was,  we  hoped,  improving.  Finding 

him  apparently  dying,  I  sent  at  once  for  Doctor , 

meanwhile  trying,  with  the  help  of  the  nurse,  every 
means  to  bring  back  warmth  to  his  body,  administering 
stimulants,  rubbing  the  extremities  with  mustard,  and 
applying  mustard-plasters.  The  poor  fellow  was  con 
scious,  and  evidently  very  much  frightened;  he  had  in 
sisted  upon  sending  for  me  and  seemed  to  be  satisfied 

that  I  would  do  everything  in  my  power.     Doctor 

came  in,  looking  black  as  a  thunder-cloud.  "  What  the 
devil  is  all  this  fuss  about?  what  are  you  going  to  do 
with  that  mustard-plaster  ?  Better  apply  it  to  that  pine 
table;  it  would  do  as  much  good;"  then  to  the  nurse, 
"  Don't  bother  that  follow  any  more ;  let  him  die  in 
peace."  My  temper  was  up,  and  I  rushed  at  once  into 
battle.  "  Sir,"  said  I,  "  if  you  have  given  the  patient  up,  1 
have  not  and  will  not.  No  true  physician  would  show  such 
brutality."  He  was  nearly  bursting  with  rage.  "I  shall 
report  you,  madam."  "  And  I,  sir,  will  take  care  that 
the  whole  post  shall  know  of  this."  He  went  out  and  I 
remained  with  the  soldier  until  he  was  better  (he  event 
ually  recovered).  The  next  morning,  bright  and  early, 
I  made  my  report  to  Dr.  McAllister,  who  had  already 
received  an  account  of  the  affair  from  the  nurses  and 
other  patients  of  the  ward.  He  reprimanded  the  sur 
geon  instead  of  gratifying  his  desire  to  humble  me. 

But  to  return  to  my  expedition :  Fortunately,  I  was 

able  to  disprove  the  false  tales  which  had  prejudiced  the 

country   people.      Their    sympathy    being    thoroughly 

aroused,  they  resolved  to  make  up  for  lost  time;  and 

a       g  9 


98  MEMORIES. 

after  this  ladies  rode  in  town  every  day,  arranging 
among  themselves  for  different  days,  and  bringing  for 
the  convalescents  the  fresh  vegetables  which  were  so 
valuable  as  a  palliative,  and  preventive  of  scurvy;  for 
the  sick,  chickens,  eggs,  fresh  butter,  buttermilk,  and 
sweet  milk.  Country  wagons  also  brought  in  small 
supplies  for  sale,  but  never  in  proportion  to  the  demand. 
Many  of  the  ladies,  after  one  visit  to  a  ward  or  two,  were 
utterly  overcome  by  the  ghastly  sight,  and  wept  even  at 
the  thought  of  looking  upon  the  misery  they  could  not 
relieve.  Others  seemed  to  feel  only  deepest  pity  and  a 
desire  to  "  do  something  for  the  poor  soldiers."  As  there 
were  so  many,  it  was  difficult  to  distribute  impartially : 
some  must  be  left  out.  The  ladies,  finding  so  many 
craving  buttermilk,  sweet  milk,  home-made  bread,  etc., 
did  not  well  know  how  to  manage ;  but  the  soldiers  them 
selves  soon  settled  that.  "I  ain't  so  very  bad  off,"  one 
would  say,  "  but  that  little  fellow  over  yonder  needs  it 
bad;  he's  powerful  weak,  and  he's  been  studying  about 
buttermilk  ever  since  he  came  in." 

All  the  time  his  own  emaciated  frame  was  trembling 
from  exhaustion,  and,  spite  of  his  courage,  his  eyes 
greedily  devoured  the  dainties  which  he  denied  himself. 
This  was  but  one  of  a  thousand  instances  of  self-abne 
gation  which  go  to  make  up  a  record  as  honorable,  as 
brave,  as  true  as  that  of  the  glorious  deeds  which  such 
men  never  failed  to  perform  whenever  opportunity 
offered. 

During  this  foraging  trip,  and  once  afterwards  during 
a  spell  of  fever  which  lasted  a  week,  I  was  cordially  re 
ceived  and  elegantly  entertained  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kussell,  who  lived  about  ten  miles  from  King- 
gold.  This  aged  couple  were  eminently  and  most  in 
telligently  patriotic. 

Their  sons  were  in  the  Confederate  service.     Their 


RINGGOLD.  99 

time  and  their  substance  were  literally  at  the  disposal 
of  all  who  served  the  cause.  The  silver-haired  mother 
knitted  and  spun  incessantly  for  the  soldiers.  The 
father  superintended  the  raising  of  vegetables,  and'sent 
wagon-loads  to  the  hospitals. 

Miss  Phemie,  a  lovely  young  girl,  was  a  frequent  visi 
tor  to  the  hospitals,  and  often  herself  dispensed  the 
golden  butter  and  rich  buttermilk  prepared  under  her 
own  direction;  she  would  even  dispense  with  the  carriage 
and  ride  in  town  on  the  wagon,  that  she  might  bring 
plenty  of  vegetables,  fruit,  etc.  Convalescents  were  en 
tertained  royally  at  the  old  homestead ;  those  who  could 
not  go  so  far  were  often  treated  to  pleasant  and  invig 
orating  rides. 

To  me  Miss  Phemie's  friendship  and  kindness  brought 
many  comforts,  and  I  remember  gratefully  the  whole 
family. 

Through  the  summer  frequent  skirmishes  and  fights 
were  heard  of,  and  sick  and  wounded  men  came  in  every 
day,  and  every  few  days  squads  of  men  who  had  "  re 
ported  for  duty"  took  their  places  at  the  front.  At  last, 
about  the  first  of  September,  1863,  appeared  the  never- 
failing  forerunner  of  a  real  battle  near  at  hand, — a 
small  brigade  of  "hospital  rats,"  distorted,  drawn  up, 
with  useless  crippled  fingers,  bent  legs,  crooked  arms, 
necks  drawn  awry,  let  us  say  by — rheumatism.  A  day 
or  two  later  was  fought  the  sanguinary  and  fiercely-con 
tested  battle  of  Chickamauga.  I  could  not  if  I  would 
describe  this  or  any  other  battle,  nor  is  it  necessary,  for 
historians  have  well  accomplished  this  duty.  The  terri 
ble  results  to  the  brave  men  engaged  only  appeared  to 
me,  and  these  guided  mo  to  an  opinion  that  among  the 
horrible,  bloody,  hard-fought  battles  of  the  war  none 
could  exceed  that  of  Chickamauga,  and  afterwards 
Franklin.  From  the  lips  of  my  boys,  however,  I  often 


100  MEMORIES. 

gained  knowledge  of  deeds  of  magnificent  bravery 
which  cannot  be  surpassed  by  any  which  adorn  the 
pages  of  history.  These  jewels  have  lain  undiscovered 
among  the  debris  of  the  war.  Would  I  could  reclaim 
them  all.  Seen  in  the  aggregate,  they  would  even  out 
shine  the  glory  already  known  and  visible.  Finding 
memory  a  treacherous  guide  while  searching  for  these 
hidden  treasures,  I  have  called  upon  my  comrades  to 
aid  me  in  clearing  away  the  dust  and  cobwebs, — the  ac 
cumulation  of  years, — but  only  in  a  few  instances  have 
they  responded.  I  shall  here  relate  one  incident  of  the 
battle  of  Chickamauga  never  before  published,  but  which 
is  true  in  every  particular. 

Austin's  Battalion  of  Sharpshooters,  composed  of  two 
companies,  the  Continental  Guards  and  Cannon  Guards, 
both  from  New  Orleans,  was  as  well  known  to  the 
Army  of  Tennessee  as  any  organization  in  it,  and  com 
manded  the  respect  and  admiration  of  all  the  army. 
The  following  lines  from  the  pen  of  a  gallant  soldier  in 
Fenner's  Louisiana  Battery  truly  portray  the  senti 
ments  of  their  army  comrades  towards  the  famous 
battalion : 

"  In  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  Austin's  Battalion  always 
occupied  the  post  of  honor  in  the  brigade  (Adams's  and 
Gibson's  Louisiana)  to  which  it  belonged.  In  the  ad 
vance,  that  battalion  was  in  the  front ;  in  the  retreat,  it 
hung  upon  the  rear,  a  safeguard  to  the  Confederates, 
and  a  cloud  threatening  at  every  step  to  burst  in  de 
structive  fury  upon  the  advancing  enemy. 

"  Who  is  on  the  front  ?"  "Austin's  Battalion."  "Then, 
boys,  we  can  lie  down  and  sleep."  Such  were  the  words 
heard  a  hundred  times  among  the  troops  of  the  Army  of 
Tennessee,  to  which  was  attached  Austin's  Battalion  of 
Sharpshooters.  Whose  tongue  could  so  graphically  pic 
ture  to  the  mind's  eye  a  soldier  and  a  hero  as  do  these 


RINGGOLD.  101 

brief  questions  and  answers  interchanged  between  battle- 
scarred  veterans  in  the  gathering  gloom  of  the  night, 
when  they  knew  not,  until  they  were  assured  Austin's 
Battalion  was  in  the  front,  if  they  could  snatch  a  few 
hours  of  repose  from  the  toil  and  danger  of  battle? 
Austin's  Battalion,  famous  throughout  the  armies  of  the 
Confederacy  for  its  discipline  and  fighting  qualities,  was 
formed  out  of  the  remnants  of  the  Eleventh  Louisiana 
Regiment,  which  distinguished  itself  at  Belmont,  and 
which  was  literally  shot  to  pieces  at  Shiloh.  The  bat 
talion  is  well  known  to  all  the  survivors  of  the  Army  of 
Tennessee  as  a  fighting  organization.  During  the  active 
campaign  of  the  army,  it  was  almost  continually  under 
fire,  and  Ned  Austin,  on  his  little  black  pony,  was  always 
in  the  advance,  "fooling  the  enemy,  or  in  the  retreat 
fighting  and  holding  him  in  check." 

As  the  title  of  the  battalion  indicates,  it  was  always 
in  the  front,  on  the  advanced  skirmish-line,  pending  a 
battle.  It  will  be  remembered  by  all  the  heroes  of  the 
Army  of  Tennessee  that  nearly  every  regiment  in  that 
army  at  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Chickamauga  had  on 
its  battle-flag  "  cross-cannon,"  which  signified  the  regi 
ment's  participation  in  the  capture  of  a  battery,  or  part 
thereof,  at  some  time  and  place.  Austin's  Battalion  had 
not  won  that  honor  when  it  commenced  its  destruc 
tive  fire  upon  the  enemy  early  Saturday  morning,  Sep 
tember  19,  1863.  Sunday,  the  20th,  the  battalion,  on 
the  extreme  right  of  the  army,  moved  forward  upon  the 
skirmish-lines  of  the  Federals  about  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  driving  them  rapidly  back  towards  their  main 
lines,  leaving  many  dead  and  wounded  on  the  ground, 
and  many  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the  enthusiastic  ad 
vancing  Confederates.  It  was  published  in  general  or 
ders  after  the  battle  that  Austin's  Sharpshooters  captured 
three  times  as  many  prisoners  as  they  had  men  in  their 

9* 


102  MEMORIES. 

whole  battalion.  The  Continentals,  on  the  right. of  the 
battalion,  commanded  by  Captain  W.  Q.  Loud,  suddenly 
found  themselves  in  range  of  and  close  quarters  to  artil 
lery,  as  shells  were  singing  through  the  woods  directly 
over  their  heads.  Still  advancing  as  skirmishers,  they 
saw  on  the  road  two  pieces  of  artillery,  supported  by 
perhaps  a  small  company  of  infantry,  about  one  hundred 
yards  from  their  advanced  position  in  the  woods.  The 
command,  "  Rally,"  was  given  by  Lieutenant  William 
Pierce,  commanding  first  platoon,  and  as  the  word 
was  passed  along  by  the  sergeants  all  within  hearing 
jumped  to  the  command,  and  as  "Forward,  charge!" 
was  given,  in  a  minute  the  gallant  Confederates  had 
forced  back  the  Federals  and  had  possession  of  the 
guns,  Lieutenant  Pierce  striking  one  of  them  with  his 
sword,  proclaiming  the  right  of  the  battalion  to  have 
cross  cannon  at  last  on  its  beloved  flag.  Although  the 
battalion,  as  was  just  and  correct,  participated  in  and 
enjoyed  the  proud  honors  of  the  capture,  it  will  cause 
no  feeling  of  envy  among  the  members  of  Company  B 
living  to-day  to  give  the  exclusive  credit  of  the  capture 
of  those  guns  to  the  first  platoon  of  the  Continental 
Guards.  The  Federals,  seeing  how  few  were  the  num 
bers  of  the  foe  who  had  driven  them  from  their  guns, 
rallied,  advanced,  and  fired  a  volley  into  the  victorious 
Confederates,  who  were  still  surrounding  the  pieces. 
Three  men  were  wounded  by  the  volley,  among  them 
Lieutenant  William  Pierce,  whose  leg  was  so  badly 
shattered  that  amputation  was  necessary.  The  boys 
in  gray  retired  to  the  first  line  of  trees,  leaving  their 
lieutenant  under  the  guns,  surrounded  by  the  boys  in 
blue.  It  was  for  a  short  moment  only :  a  volley  which 
killed  three  and  wounded  more  of  the  Federals,  a  yell 
and  a  charge,  and  the  lieutenant's  comrades  again  had 
possession  of  the  guns,  and  soon  were  carrying  him  and 


RING  GOLD.   •  103 

dragging  the  guns  to  the  rear,  making  the  captured 
Federals  assist  in  both  duties.  The  advancing  brigade " 
was  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  where  the  guns 
were  captured.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  history 
of  the  war  will  record  a  similar  capture  of  artillery  sup 
ported  by  infantry,  disclosed  suddenly  by  an  advance- 
line  of  skirmishers  who  unhesitatingly  charged,  took 
possession  of,  and  carried  to  the  rear  the  guns.  One 
would  have  supposed  that  Lieutenant  Pierce,  having 
suffered  amputation  of.  a  leg,  might  have  rested  upon 
laurels  won  so  gloriously.  Ah,  no !  his  gallant  soul  was 
yet  undismayed.  At  the  earliest  possible  moment  he 
returned  to  his  command,  there  receiving  a  rich  recom 
pense  for  past  suffering.  Imagine  his  great  pride  and 
satisfaction  when,  following  his  comrades  to  the  quar 
ters  of  the  gallant  Major  Ned  Austin,  he  was  shown  the 
battalion  flag  with  its  "  honored  and  honorable"  cross- 
cannon  liberally  displayed. 

The  survivors  of  the  Continental  Guards,  returning 
to  New  Orleans  after  the  war,  have  clung  together  like 
true  brothers,  retaining  their  military  organization  and 
the  name  they  bore  so  gallantly.  Of  the  veterans,  not 
many  remain ;  these  are  known  and  revered  by  all. 
Captain  Pierce  is  fondly  beloved  and  highly  respected 
by  his  former  command,  as  well  as  by  the  younger 
members  of  the  company,  who,  having  "  fallen  in"  to 
fill  up  the  ranks  which  time  and  death  have  decimated, 
are  striving  nobly  to  uphold  the  name  and  fame  of  the 
Continentals.  Under  the  command  of  a  gallant  gentle 
man  and  excellent  executive  officer,  the  new  Continentals 
have  guarded  and  kept  ever  fresh  the  laurels  won  by 
their  predecessors,  adding  an  exceptional  record  of  their 
own,  both  military  and  civic.  Upon  all  patriotic  occa 
sions  the  veterans  appear  and  march  with  the  company. 
Our  veteran  companies  are  the  pride  and  glory  of  New 


104  ••     M EMORIES. 

Orleans.  Citizens  never  tire  of  viewing  the  beautiful 
uniform  and  the  martial  step  of  the  Continental  Guards. 
And  who  can  look  upon  Captain  Pierce,  bearing  his 
trusty  sword,  keeping  step  equally  well,  whether  he 
wears  a  finely-formed  cork  leg  or  stumps  along  on  his 
favorite  wooden  one,— his  bearing  as  proud  as  the 
proudest,  his  heroic  soul  looking  gloriously  forth  from 
its  undimmed  windows, — and  fail  to  remember  proudly 
the  young  lieutenant  who  fell  under  the  enemy's  gun  at 
Chickamauga  ?  Or  who  can  listen  unmoved  to  the  music 
of  the  cannon  which  so  often  woke  the  morning  echoes 
upon  the  bloodiest  battle-field  of  the  war?  A  parade 
of  the  Washington  Artillery  is,  indeed,  a  glorious  and 
inspiriting  sight.  Here  they  come,  gayly  caparisoned, 
perfect  in  every  detail  of  military  equipment,  led  by 
elegant  officers  who  may  well  ride  proudly,  for  each  is 
a  true  soldier  and  a  hero.  Scarcely  less  distinguished, 
save  for  the  plainer  uniform,  are  the  rank  and  file 
that  follow.  Can  these  be  the  same  men  whom  his 
tory  delights  to  honor, — the  heroes  of  a  hundred  battle 
fields, — both  in  the  army  of  Virginia  and  Tennessee, 
who,  stripped  to  the  waist,  blackened  with  powder 
and  smoke,  bloody  with  streaming  wounds,  still  stood 
to  their  guns,  and,  in  answer  to  the  enemy,  thun 
dered  forth  their  defiant  motto,  "Come  and  take  us!" 
And  now — who  more  peaceful,  who  more  public-spir 
ited,  who  more  kind  in  word  and  deed?  Of  the  Yir 
ginia  detachment  I  knew  little  except  their  splendid 
record.  From  the  fifth  company  I  frequently  received 
patients  during  my  service  with  the  Army  of  Tennessee, 
for,  like  their  comrades  of  Yirginia,  they  seemed  to  be 
in  every  battle,  and  in  the  thick  of  it.  In  fact,  New 
Orleans  and  the  whole  State  of  Louisiana,  like  every 
city  and  State  in  the  South,  are  peopled  with  veterans 
and  heroes.  In  comparatively  few  cases  have  military 


RINOQOLD.  105 

organizations  been  kept  up.  Other  duties  engross  the 
late  Confederates,  of  whom  it  may  be  truly  said  their 
record  of  citizenship  is  as  excellent  as  their  war  record. 
If  to  any  reader  it  occurs  that  I  seem  to  be  doing  par 
ticular  justice  to  New  Orleans  troops,  I  will  say,  let  the 
feeling  which  arises  in  your  own  breast  regarding  your 
"very  own"  plead  for  me.  Eemember  that  my  husband 
was  one  of  the  famous  Dreux  Battalion,  and  afterwards 
of  Gibson's  Brigade,  also  that  Louisianians  were  exiles, 
and  that  love  of  our  home,  with  sorrow  and  indignation 
on  account  of  her  humiliation  and  chains,  drew  us  very 
close  together.  But  aside  from  this  natural  feeling 
there  was  no  shadow  of  difference  in  my  ministration 
or  in  the  affection  I  bore  towards  all  "  my  boys." 

There  was  not  a  single  Southern  State  unrepresented 
among  the  bleeding  victims  of  Chickamauga.  From 
that  hardly-contested  field,  as  from  many  others,  a  rich 
harvest  of  glory  has  been  reaped  and  garnered  until 
the  treasure-houses  of  history  are  full  to  overflowing. 
Glowing  accounts  of  the  splendid  deeds  of  this  or  that 
division,  brigade,  regiment,  company,  have  immortalized 
the  names  of— their  officers.  And  what  of  the  unfalter- 
ing  followers,  whose  valor  supported  their  brave  leaders 
and  helped  to  create  many  a  splendid  record  ?  Here  lay 
the  shattered  remnants,  each  ghastly  wound  telling  its 
own  story  of  personal  bravery.  The  fiery  sons  of 
South  Carolina,  unsubdued  by  the  perils  they  had 
passed,  unmindful  of  their  gaping  wounds,  as  ready 
then  to  do  and  dare  as  when  they  threw  down  the 
gauntlet  of  defiance  and  stood  ready  to  defend  the 
sovereignty  of  their  State.  The  men  who  followed 
where  the  gallant  Forrest  led,  "  looking  the  warrior 
in  love  with  his  work."  The  devoted  patriots  who 
charged  with  Breckenridge.  The  tall,  soldierly  Ten- 
nesseeans,  of  whom  their  commander  said,  when  asked 


106  MEMORIES. 

if  he  could  take  and  hold  a  position  of  transcendent 
danger,  "  Give  me  my  Tennesseeans,  and  Pit  take  and 
hold  anything ;"  the  determined,  ever-ready  Texans, 
who,  under  the  immortal  Terry,  so  distinguished  them 
selves,  and  under  other  leaders  in  every  battle  of  the 
war  won  undying  laurels ;  North  Carolinians,  of  whose 
courage  in  battle  I  needed  no  better  proof  than  the 
pluck  they  invariably  showed  under  the  torture  of 
fevered  wounds  or  of  the  surgeon's  knife;  exiled  Keri- 
tuckians,  Arkansians,  Georgians,  Louisianians,  Mis- 
sourians,  Marylanders,  sternly  resentful,  and  impatient 
of  the  wounds  that  kept  them  from  the  battle-field,  be 
cause  ever  hoping  to  strike  some  blow  that  should  sever 
a  link  in  the  chains  which  bound  the  homes  they  so 
loved ;  Alabamians,  the  number  of  whose  regiments,  as 
well  as  their  frequent  consolidation,  spoke  volumes  for  their 
splendid  service ;  Georgians,  who,  having  fought  with 
desperate  valor,  now  lay  suffering  and  dying  within  the 
confines  of  their  own  State,  yet  unable  to  reach  the 
loved  ones  who,  unknowing  what  their  fate  might  be, 
awaited  with  trembling  hearts  accounts  of  the  battle, 
so  slow  in  reaching  them ;  Mississippians,  of  whom  I 
have  often  heard  it  said,  "  tljeir  fighting  and  stay 
ing  qualities  were  magnificent."  I  then  knew  hundreds 
of  instances  of  individual  valor,  of  which  my  remem 
brance  is  now  so  dim  that  I  dare  not  give  names  or  dates. 
I  am  proud,  however,  to  record  the  names  of  four 
soldiers  belonging  to  the  Seventeenth  Mississippi  Regi 
ment  :  J.  Wm.  Flynn,*  then  a  mere  lad,  but  whose  record 
will  compare  with  the  brightest ;  Samuel  Frank,  quarter 
master;  Maurice  Bernhiem,  quartermaster-sergeant,  and 
Auerbach,  the  drummer  of  the  regiment.  I  was  proudly 
told  by  a  member  of  Company  G,  Seventeenth  Missis- 

*  Mr.  Flynn  is  now  pastor  in  charge  of  a  Presbyterian  Church  in  New 
Orleans,  and  is  as  faithful  a  soldier  of  the  cross  as  once  of  the  lost  cause. 


RINOGOLD.  107 

sippi,  that  Sam  Frank,  although  excelling  in  every  duty 
of  his  position,  was  exceeding  brave,  often  earnestly 
asking  permission  to  lead  the  skirmishers,  and  would 
shoulder  a  musket  sooner  than  stay  out  of  the  fight. 
Maurice  Bernhiem,  quartermaster-sergeant,  was  also 
brave  as  the  bravest.  Whenever  it  was  possible  ho  also 
would  join  the  ranks  and  fight  as  desperately  as  any 
soldier.  Both  men  were  exempt  from  field-service. 
Auerbach,  the  drummer  of  the  Seventeenth,  was  also  a 
model  soldier,  always  at  his  post.  On  the  longest 
marches,  in  the  fiercest  battles,  whatever  signal  the 
commanding  officer  wished  to  have  transmitted  by  means 
of  the  drum,  night  or  day,  amid  the  smoke  of  battle  or 
the  dust  of  the  march,  Auerbach  was  always  on  hand. 
The  members  of  the  Seventeenth  declared  that  they 
could  never  forget  the  figure  of  the  small  Jewish  drum 
mer,  his  little  cap  shining  out  here  and  there  amid  the 
thick  smoke  and  under  a  rattling  fire.  Before  taking 
leave  of  this  splendid  regiment,  I  will  give  an  incident 
of  the  battle  of  Knoxville,  also  related  to  me  by  one  of 
its  members. 

By  some  mismanagement,  Longstreet's  corps  had  no 
scaling-ladders,  and  had  to  cut  their  way  up  the  wall  of 
the  entrenchment  by  bayonets,  digging  out  step  after 
step  under  a  shower  of  hot  water,  stones,  shot,  axes,  etc. 
Some  of  the  men  actually  got  to  the  top,  and,  reaching 
over,  dragged  the  enemy  over  the  walls.  General  Hum 
phrey's  brigade  had  practically  taken  the  fort.  Their 
flag  was  flying  from  the  walls,  about  a  hundred  men 
having  reached  the  top,  where  the  color-bearer  had 
planted  his  flag,  when  the  staff  was  shot  off  about  an 
inch  above  his  hand.  The  men  were  so  mad  at  losing 
the  flag,  that  they  seized  the  shells  with  fuses  burning 
and  hurled  them  back  upon  the  enemy.  Some  of  the 
members  of  this  gallant  regiment  were  among  the  hun- 


108  MEMORIES. 

dreds  equally  brave  who,  after  the  battle  of  Chicka- 
mauga,  became  my  patients.  Scattered  all  through  the 
wards  were  dozens  of  Irishmen,  whose  awful  wounds 
scarcely  sufficed  to  keep  them  in  bed,  so  impatient  were 
they  of  restraint,  and  especially  of  inactivity, — so  eager 
to  be  at  the  front.  Ever  since  the  war  I  have  kept  in 
my  heart  a  place  sacred  to  these  generous  exiles,  who, 
in  the  very  earliest  days  of  the  Confederacy,  flocked  by 
thousands  to  her  standard,  wearing  the  gray  as  if  it  had 
been  the  green,  giving  in  defence  of  the  land  of  their 
adoption  the  might  of  stalwart  arms,  unfaltering  courage, 
and  the  earnest  devotion  of  hearts  glad  thus  to  give 
expression  to  the  love  of  liberty  and  hatred  of  oppression 
which  filled  them.  As  Confederate  soldiers  they  made 
records  unsurpassed  by  any,  but  they  never  forgot  that 
they  were  Irishmen,  and  bound  to  keep  up  the  name 
and  fame  of  Old  Ireland.  So,  company  after  company, 
composing  many  regiments,  appeared  on  fields  of  glory 
bearing  names  dear  to  every  Irish  heart, — names  which 
they  meant  to  immortalize,  and  did. 

That  I  should  be  permitted  to  serve  all  these  heroes, 
to  live  among  them,  to  minister  to  them,  seemed  to  me 
a  blessing  beyond  estimation.  Strange  to  say,  although 
my  toil  increased  and  the  horror  deepened,  my  health 
did  not  suffer.  After  days  and  nights  of  immeasurable 
fatigue,  a  few  hours  of  sleep  would  quite  restore  me, 
and  I  dared  to  believe  that  the  supporting  rod  and  staff 
was  given  of  God. 

It  now  became  very  difficult  to  obtain  food  either 
suitable  or  sufficient.  The  beef  was  horrible.  Upon 
two  occasions  rations  of  mule  meat  were  issued,  and 
eaten  with  the  only  sauce  which  could  have  rendered 
'  it  possible  to  swallow  the  rank,  coarse-grained  meat, — 
i.e.,  the  ravenous  hunger  of  wounded  and  convalescent 
men.  Meal  was  musty,  flour  impossible  to  be  procured. 


RINOOOLD.  109 

All  the  more  delicate  food  began  to  fail  utterly.     A  few 
weeks  after  the  battle,  Dr.  S.  M.  Remiss  was  ordered  to 
Newnan,  Georgia,  to  arrange  for  the  removal  of  the  hos 
pital  "  post."     We  were,  therefore,  expecting  a  change 
of  location,  but  quite  unprepared  for  the  suddenness  of 
the  order,  or  the  haste  and  confusion  that  ensued.     The 
upsetness  was  so  complete  that  it  almost  seemed  to  me 
an  actual  fulfilment  of  a  mysterious  prophecy  or  warn 
ing  often  uttered  by  old  negroes  to  terrorize  children 
into  good  behavior:  "Better  mind  out  dar:  fust  thing 
you  knows  you  ain't  gwine  ter  know  nuffinV     Every 
thing  seemed  to  be  going  on  at  once.     The  ambulance- 
train,  with  a  few  baggage-cars  attached,  was  even  then 
at  the  depot.    A  hoarse,  stifled  whistle  apprised  us  of  the 
fact,  and  seemed  to  hurry  our  preparation.     Dr.  McAl 
lister  was  everywhere,  superintending  the  removal  with 
the  energy  natural  to  him.     In  the  court-house  all  was 
confusion.    Boxes  were  hastily  filled  with  bedding,  cloth 
ing,  etc.,  thrown  in  helter-skelter,  hastily  nailed  up,  and 
as  hastily  carted  down  to  the  train.     Sick  and  awfully 
wounded  men  were   hurriedly  placed  upon  stretchers, 
and  their  bearers  formed  an  endless  procession  to  the 
rough  cars  (some  of  them  lately  used  to  transport  cat 
tle,  and  dreadfully  filthy).    Here  they  were  placed  upon 
straw  mattresses,  or  plain  straw,  as  it  happened.     No 
provisions  were  to  be  had  except  sides  of  rusty  baco-n 
and  cold  corn-bread.     These  were  shovelled  into  carts 
and  transferred  to  the  floor  of  the  cars  in  the  same 
manner.     There  was  no  time  to  cook  anything,  and  the 
chances  were  whether  we  would  get  off  at  all  or  not. 
Procuring  a  large  caldron,  I  dumped  into  it  remnants 
of  the  day's  dinner, — a  little  soup,  a  few  vegetables,  and 
some  mule  meat.     The  stoves  had  all  been  taken  down, 
but  there  was  a  little  cold  cornmeal  coffee,  some  tea,  and 
a  small  quantity  of  milk.    This  I  put  into  buckets;  then, 

10 


110  MEMORIES. 

importuning  the  surgeon  in  charge  until  he  was  glad  to 
get  rid  of  me  by  assigning  me  a  cart,  I  mounted  into  it 
with  my  provisions  and  jolted  off  to  the  cars,  where 
hundreds  of  tortured,  groaning  men  were  lying.  There 
I  met  Dr.  Gore  (for  both  hospitals  were  to  be  moved  on 
the  same  train),  who  helped  me  to  hide  my  treasures 
and  to  administer  some  weak  milk  punch  to  the  suffer 
ers.  Meanwhile,  the  pine-wood  fires  kindled  in  the 
streets  all  around  the  hospitals  made  the  town  look  as 
though  it  was  on  fire,  and  threw  its  weird  light  upon 
masses  of  soldiery, — cavalry,  infantry,  artillery, — moving 
in  endless  numbers  through  the  town,  shaking  the  very 
earth  with  the  tramp  of  men  and  horses  and  the  heavy 
rumble  of  wheels.  The  men  were  silent,  and  looked 
jaded  and  ghastly  in  the  lurid  light.  Some  had  bloody 
rags  tied  about  head  and  hands,  their  breasts  were  bare, 
the  panting  breath  could  be  heard  plainly,  their  eyes 
shone  fiercely  through  the  grime  of  powder  and  smoke. 
They  had  been  fighting,  and  were  now  retreating;  still 
they  marched  in  solid  column,  nor  broke  ranks,  nor  lost 
step.  The  faces  of  the  officers  were  grave  and  troubled  ; 
none  seemed  to  observe  our  frantic  haste,  but  all  to  look 
forward  with  unseeing  eyes.  I  did  so  long  to  have 
them  rest  and  refresh  themselves.  During  the  whole 
of  that  eventful  night  my  cheeks  were  wet,  my  heart 
aching  sadly.  Before  daylight  we  were  off.  Eailroads 
at  that  time  were  very  defective  and  very  rough.  Ah, 
how  terrible  was  the  suffering  of  those  wounded  men  as 
they  were  jolted  and  shaken  from  side  to  side !  for  haste 
was  necessary  to  escape  the  enemy.  About  noon  the 
train  came  to  a  full  stop,  nor  moved  again  for  many, 
many  hours, — hours  fraught  with  intense  suffering  to 
the  sick  and  wounded,  as  well  as  to  all  who  shared  the 
hardships  of  that  journey.  It  was  reported  that  the 
enemy  were  passing  either  to  the  right  or  left,  I  do  not 


RINQQOLD.  Ill 

remember  which.  Not  a  wheel  must  move,  not  a  col 
umn  of  smoke  arise;  so,  with  the  engine  fires  extin 
guished,  the  train  stood  motionless  in  the  midst  of  a 
barren  pine  forest.  The  small  supply  of  cooked  food 
was  soon  exhausted,  the  ladies  on  the  train  assisting 
to  feed  the  wounded  soldiers.  All  were  parched  with 
thirst.  The  only  water  to  be  procured  lay  in  ruts  and 
ditches  by  the  roadside,  and  was  filthy  and  fetid.  So 
the  day  passed.  All  through  the  night  every  one  was 
on  the  alert,  listening  intently  for  sounds  that  might 
mean  danger.  No  lights,  no  roadside  fires  could  be 
allowed;  but  the 'moon  shone  brightly,  and  by  its  light 
the  surgeons  moved  about  among  the  suffering  men, 
whose  groans,  united  with  the  plaintive  sigh  of  the  chill 
wind  through  the  pine  forest,  served  to  make  night  dis 
mal  indeed.  In  the  intervals  of  attending  upon  the  sick 
we  slept  as  we  could,  leaning  up  against  boxes,  tilted 
back  in  chairs  against  the  side  of  the  car,  or  lying  down, 
with  anything  we  could  get  for  pillows.  Some  of  the 
surgeons  and  attendants  bivouacked  under  the  trees  in 
spite  of  the  cold.  In  the  morning  we  were  hungry 
enough  to  eat  the  stale  corn-bread,  and  tried  to  like  it, 
but  even  of  that  there  was  very  little,  for  the  wounded 
men  were  ravenous.  Drs.  Gore  and  Yates  set  them 
selves  to  whittle  some  "  army-forks,"  or  forked  sticks, 
and,  cutting  the  bacon  in  thin  slices,  made  little  fires 
which  they  carefully  covered  with  large  pans  to  keep 
the  smoke  from  arising.  By  these  they  toasted  slices  of 
bacon.  Ah,  how  delicious  was  the  odor,  how  excellent 
the  taste !  Several  hands  were  set  at  this  work,  but  it 
was  necessarily  very  slow.  I  remained  among  my  own 
patients,  while  my  servant  climbed  in  and  out  of  the 
car,  bringing  as  much  meat  as  she  could  get,  which  I 
distributed  while  she  returned  for  more.  The  wounded 
men  were  clamorous  for  it,  crying  out,  "  Give  it  to  us 


112  MEMORIES. 

raw ;  we  can't  wait."  This  we  were  soon  compelled  to 
do,  as  it  was  feared  the  smoke  might  escape  and  betray 
us.  I  cannot  now  recollect  by  what  means  we  received 
the  welcome  order  to  move  on,  but  it  came  at  last,  and 
on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  we  reached  Newnan, 
Georgia,  where,  after  a  few  days'  bustle  and  confusion, 
we  were  pleasantly  settled  and  had  fallen  into  the  old 
routine,  Dr.  Bemiss  having  arranged  not  only  for  excel 
lent  quarters  but  for  fresh  supplies  of  rations  and  hospital 
stores. 


CHAPTER   V. 

NEWNAN,   GEORGIA. 

JUST  here  Memory  lays  a  restraining  hand  upon  my 
own.  Turning  to  meet  her  gaze,  it  pleads  with  me  to 
linger  a  while  in  this  sweet  and  pleasant  spot,  peopled 
with  familiar  forms,  and  kindly  faces,  well-beloved  in  the 
past,  fondly  greeted  once  again.  Ah,  how  closely  our 
little  band  clung  together,  how  enduring  were  the  ties 
that  bound  us !  Ignoring  the  shadow,  seeking  always  to 
stand  in  the  sunshine,  we  welcomed  with  yet  unshaken 
faith  the  heavenly  guest  who  stood  in  our  midst,  turning 
upon  us  almost  for  the  last  time  an  unclouded  face,  and 
eyes  undimmed  by  doubt  or  pain, — the  angel  of  Hope. 

The  ladies  of  Newnan  were  truly  loyal,  and  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  the  whole  town  was  converted  into  hospi 
tals,  and  every  eligible  place  filled  with  sick,  murmured 
not,  but  strove  in  every  way  to  add  to  their  comfort.  I 
wish  I  could  place  every  one  before  my  readers  to  receive 
the  meed  of  praise  she  so  richly  deserves ;  only  a  few, 
very  few,  names  now  occur  to  me.  The  hospitable  man 
sion  of  Judge  Ray  was  a  complete  rendezvous  for  con 
valescent  soldiers;  also  the  homes  of  Mrs.  McKinstry 
and  Mrs.  Morgan.  The  latter  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  I  ever  saw.  Dr.  Gore  used  td  say,  "  She 
is  just  plum  pretty:1  She  was  a  perfect  blonde,  with  a 
small  head  "running  over"  with  short,  golden  curls. 
The  Misses  Ray  were  brunettes,  very  handsome  and 
stately.  Their  brothers  were  in  the  army.  Judge  Ray 
never  allowed  his  daughters  to  visit  the  hospitals, 
but  atoned  for  that  by  unbounded  hospitality.  Mrs. 
A  10*  113 


114  MEMORIES. 

McKinstry  was  a  constant  visitor  to  the  hospitals,  and 
had  her  house  full  of  sick  soldiers.  Only  one  church  in 
the  town  was  left  vacant  in  which  to  hold  services. 
Rev.  E.  A.  Holland,  then  a  young,  enthusiastic  Methodist 
minister,  and  a  chaplain  in  the  army,  remained  for  some 
time  in  Newnan,  holding  meetings  which  were  largely 
attended.  Dr.  Holland  was  long  after  the  war  converted 
to  the  Episcopal  faith,  and  called  to  Trinity  Church, 
New  Orleans.  The  bishops  and  ministers  of  the  Protest 
ant  Episcopal  Church  also  held  frequent  services,  and 
often  Catholic  priests  came  among  the  sick,  who  greatly 
valued  their  holy  ministration.  Through  the  kindness 
of  a  friend,  an  ownerless  piano  found  in  one  of  the  stores 
was  moved  to  my  room,  and,  although  not  a  good  one, 
contributed  largely  to  the  pleasure  of  the  soldiers,  also 
serving  for  sacred  music  when  needed.  Mr.  Blandner's 
lute,  my  piano,  and  Mrs.  Gamble's  soprano  voice,  joined 
to  that  of  a  Confederate  tenor  or  bass,  or  my  own  con 
tralto,  made  delicious  music.  Concerts,  tableaux,  plays, 
etc.,  were  also  given  for  the  benefit  of  refugees  or  to 
raise  money  to  send  boxes  to  the  front:  at  all  these  I 
assisted,  but  had  no  time  for  rehearsals,  etc.  I  could 
only  run  over  and  sing  my  song  or  songs  and  then  run 
back  to  my  patients.  Some  money  was  realized,  but  the 
entertainments  were  never  a  great  financial  success, 
because  all  soldiers  were  invited  guests.  Still,  some  good 
was  always  accomplished.  These  amusements  were 
greatly  encouraged  by  physicians  and  others,  as  safety- 
valves  to  relieve  the  high-pressure  of  excitement,  un 
certainty,  and  dread  which  were  characteristic  of  the 
time.  I  was  always  counted  in,  but  seldom,  very  seldom, 
accepted  an  invitation,  for  it  seemed  to  me  like  unfaith 
fulness  to  the  memory  of  the  gallant  dead,  and  a  mockery 
of  the  suffering  in  our  midst.  I  could  not  rid  myself  of 
this  feeling,  and  can  truly  say  that  during  those  fateful 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  115 

years,  from  the  time  when  in  Eichmond  the  "  starvation 
parties"  were  organized,  until  the  end,  I  never  found  a 
suitable  time  to  dance  or  a  time  to  laugh  or  a  time  to 
make  merry. 

My  own  special  kitchen  (an  immense  wareroom  at 
the  back  of  the  store,  which  was  used  for  a  distributing- 
room)  was  in  Newnan  well  fitted  up.  A  cavernous 
fireplace,  well  supplied  with  big  pots,  little  pots,  bake- 
ovens,  and  stew-pans,  was  supplemented  by  a  cooking- 
stove  of  good  size.  A  large  brick  oven  was  built  in  the 
yard  close  by,  and  two  professional  bakers,  with  their 
assistants,  were  kept  busy  baking  for  the  whole  post. 
There  happened  to  be  a  back  entrance  to  this  kitchen, 
and  although  the  convalescents  were  not  allowed  inside, 
many  were  the  interviews  held  at  said  door  upon  subjects 
of  vital  importance  to  the  poor  fellows  who  had  walked 
far  into  the  country  to  obtain  coveted  dainties  which 
they  wanted  to  have  cooked  "like  my  folks  at  home  fix 
it  up."  They  were  never  refused,  and  sometimes  a  dozen 
different  "messes"  were  set  off  to  await  claimants, — 
potato-pones,  cracklin  bread,  apple-pies,  blackberry -pies, 
squirrels,  birds,  and  often  chickens.  For  a  long  time  the 
amount  of  chickens  brought  in  by  "  the  boys"  puzzled 
me.  They  had  little  or  no  money,  and  chickens  were 
always  high-priced.  I  had  often  noticed  that  the  men  in 
the  wards  were  busy  preparing  ftsh-hooks,  and  yet,  though 
they  often  "  went  fishing,"  they  brought  no  fish  to  be 
cooked.  One  day  the  mystery  was  fully  solved.  An 
irate  old  lady  called  upon  Dr.  McAllister,  holding  at  the 
end  of  a  string  a  fine,  large  chicken,  and  vociferously 
proclaiming  her  wrongs.  "  I  knowed  I'd  ketch  'em :  I 
knowed  it.  Jos'  look  a-here,"  and  she  drew  up  the 
chicken,  opened  its  mouth,  and  showed  the  butt  of  a 
fish-hook  it  had  swallowed.  Upon  further  examination, 
it  was  found  that  the  hook  had  been  baited  with  a  kernel 


116  MEMORIES. 

of  corn.  "I've  been  noticin'  a  powerful  disturbance 
among  my  fowls,  an'  every  onct  in  wbile  one  of  'em 
would  go  over  the  fence  like  litenin'  and  I  couldn't  see 
what  went  with  it.  This  mornin'  I  jes'  sot  down  untier 
the  fence  an'  watched,  and  the  fust  thing  I  seed  was  a 
line  flyin'  over  the  fence  right  peert,  an'  as  soon  as  it 
struck  the  ground  the  chickens  all  went  for  it,  an'  this 
yer  fool  chicken  up  and  swallerod  it.  Now,  I'm  a  lone 
woman,  an'  my  chickens  an'  my  truck-patch  is  my  livin', 
and  I  ain't  gwine  to  stan*  no  sich!"  The  convalescents, 
attracted  by  the  shrill,  angry  voice,  gathered  around. 
Their  innocent  surprise,  and  the  wonder  with  which 
they  examined  the  baited  fish-hook  and  sympathized  with 
the  old  lady,  almost  upset  the  gravity  of  the  "  sturgeons," 
as  the  old  body  called  the  doctors. 

There  was  one  dry-goods  store  still  kept  open  in  New- 
nan,  but  fewladies  had  the  inclination  or  the  means  to 
go  shopping.  The  cotton  lying  idle  all  over  the  South 
was  then  to  a  certain  extent  utilized.  Everything  the 
men  wore  was  dyed  and  woven  at  home:  pants  were 
either  butternut,  blue,  or  light  purple,  occasionally  light 
yellow  ;  shirts,  coarse,  but  snowy  white,  or  what  would 
now  be  called  cream.  Everybody  knitted  socks.  Ladies, 
negro  women,  girls,  and  even  little  boys,  learned  to  knit. 
Each  tried  to  get  ahead  as  to  number  and  quality. 
Ladies'  stockings  were  also  knitted  of  all  grades  from 
stout  and  thick  to  gossamer  or  open-work,  etc.  Home 
spun  dresses  were  proudly  worn,  and  it  became  a  matter 
of  constant  experiment  and  great  pride  to  improve  the 
quality  and  vary  colors.  Warp  and  woof  were  finely 
spun,  and  beautiful  combinations  of  colors  ventured 
upon,  although  older  heads  eschewed  them,  and  in  con 
sequence  complacently  wore  their  clean,  smoothly-ironed 
gray,  "pepper-and-salt,"  or  brown  homespuns  long  after 
the  gayer  ones  had  been  faded  by  sun  or  water  and  had 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  117 

to  be  "dipped."  Hats  and  bonnets  of  all  sorts  and 
sizes  were  made  of  straw  or  palmetto,  and  trimmed 
with  the  same.  Most  of  them  bore  cockades  of  bright 
red  and  white  (the  "  red,  white,  and  red"),  fashioned  of 
strips  knitted  to  resemble  ribbons.  Some  used  emblems 
denoting  the  State  or  city  of  the  wearer,  others  a  small 
Confederate  battle-flag.  Young  faces  framed  in  these 
pretty  hats,  or  looking  out  from  under  a  broad-brim, 
appeared  doubly  bewitching.  Ladies  worked  early  and 
late,  first  upon  the  fabric,  and  then  upon  beautifully- 
stitched  homespun  shirts,  intended  as  gifts  to  favorite 
heroes  returning  to  the  front.  During  the  winter  nights 
the  light  of  pine-knot  fires  had  sufficed,  but  now  Confed 
erate  candles  were  used.  It  did  seem  as  if  the  bees  were 
Southern  sympathizers,  and  more  faithfully  than  usual 
"improved  each  shining  hour."  The  wax  thus  obtained 
was  melted  in  largo  kettles,  and  yards  of  rags  torn  into 
strips  and  sewn  together,  then  twisted  to  the  size  of 
lamp-wicks,  were  dipped  into  the  liquid  wax,  cooled, 
and  dipped  again  and  again  until  of  the  right  size. 
These  yards  of  waxed  rags  were  wound  around  a  corn 
cob  or  a  bottle,  then  clipped,  leaving  about  two  yards 
"  closely  wound"  to  each  candle.  One  end  was  left  loose 
to  light,  and — here  you  have  the  recipe  for  Confederate 
candles. 

When  I  came  through  the  lines  I  was  refused  permis 
sion  to  bring  any  baggage ;  therefore  my  supply  of 
clothing  was  exceedingly  small.  I  had,  however,  some 
gold  concealed  about  my  person,  and  fortunately  pro 
cured  with  it  a  plain  wardrobe.  This  I  had  carefully 
treasured,  but  now  it  was  rapidly  diminishing.  At  least 
I  must  have  one  new  dress.  It  was  bought, — a  simple 
calico,  and  not  of  extra  quality.  The  cost  was  three 
hundred  dollars!  With  the  exception  of  a  plain  muslin 
bought  the  following  summer  for  three  hundred  and 


118  MEMORIES. 

fifty  dollars,  it  was  my  only  indulgence  in  the  extrava 
gance  of  dress  during  the  whole  war.  Two  pretty  gray 
homespuns  made  in  Alabama  were  my  standbys. 

A  good-sized  store  had  been  assigned  to  me  as  a  linen 
room  and  office.  The  linen  room,  standing  upon  the 
street,  was  very  large,  and  shelved  all  around,  a  counter 
on  one  side,  and  otherwise  furnished  with  splint  chairs 
and  boxes  to  sit  upon.  My  sanctum  lay  behind  it,  and 
here  my  sick  and  convalescent  boys  came  frequently, 
and  dearly  loved  to  come,  to  rest  upon  the  lounge  or 
upon  my  rocking-chair,  to  read,  to  eat  nice  little  lunches, 
and  often  to  write  letters.  The  front  room  was  the 
rendezvous  of  the  surgeons.  In  the  morning  they  came 
to  consult  me  about  diet-lists  or  to  talk  to  each  other. 
In  the  evening  the  promenade  of  the  ladies  generally 
ended  here,  the  surgeons  always  came,  and  I  am  proud 
to  say  that  a  .circle  composed  of  more  cultivated,  refined 
gentlemen  and  ladies  could  not  be  found  than  those  who 
met  in  the  rough  linen-room  of  the  Buckner  Hospital. 
Dr.  McAllister  often  looked  in,  but  only  for  a  few  mo 
ments.  He  was  devoted  to  his  business  as  surgeon  in 
charge  of  a  large  hospital.  The  multifarious  duties  of 
the  position  occupied  him  exclusively.  He  was  a  superb 
executive  officer:  nothing  escaped  his  keen  observation. 
N"o  wrong  remained  unredressed,  no  recreant  found  an 
instant's  toleration.  He  was  ever  restless,  and  not  at  all 
given  to  the  amenities  of  life  or  to  social  intercourse, 
but  fond  of  spending  his  leisure  moments  at  his  own 
temporary  home,  which  a  devoted  wife  made  to  him  a 
paradise.  His  manners  to  strangers  were  very  stiff;  his 
friendship,  once  gained,  was  earnest  and  unchangeable. 
Dr.  Gamble,  surgeon  of  the  post,  was  an  urbane,  kindly 
gentleman.  Business  claimed  his  entire  time  also,  and 
he  was  seldom  seen  outside  of  his  office.  The  ladies  of 
our  little  circle  have  been  already  mentioned,  as  well  as 


NEW  NAN,   GEORGIA.  119 

most  of  the  surgeons.  Dr.  Bemiss,  of  all  others,  was  a 
general  favorite.  We  did  not  see  much  of  him,  as  ho 
was  a  very  busy  man ;  but  at  least  once  a  day  he 
would  find  his  way  to  the  rendezvous,  often  looking  in 
at  the  window  as  he  "  halted"  outside  for  a  little  chat. 
Invariably  the  whole  party  brightened  up  at  his  coming. 
He  was  so  genial,  so  witty,  so  sympathetic,  so  entirely 
en  rapport  with  everybody.  A  casual  occurrence,  a  little 
discussion  involving,  perhaps,  a  cunning  attempt  to  enlist 
him  on  one  side  or  the  other,  would  prove  the  key  to 
unlock  a  fund  of  anecdotes,  repartee,  bon-mots,  and,  best 
of  all,  word-pictures,  for  here  Dr.  Bemiss  excelled  every 
one  I  ever  knew.  My  own  relations  with  him  were 
very  pleasant,  for  he  was  my  adviser  and  helper  in  using 
properly  the  Louisiana  and  Alabama  funds.  The  friend 
ship  between  Drs.  Bemiss  and  Gore  seemed  almost  like 
that  of  Damon  and  Pythias.  I  think  that  Dr.  Bemiss 
was  first  surgeon  in  charge  of  the  "  Bragg,"  but  when  a 
larger  field  was  assigned  to  him  Dr.  Gore  succeeded, 
Dr.  Bemiss  still  retaining  in  some  way  the  position  of 
superior  officer.  Both  these  men  were  eminent  surgeons 
and  physicians,  possessing  in  a  remarkable  degree  the 
subtle  comprehension  and  sympathy  which  is  so  valuable 
a  quality  in  a  physician.  The  tie  that  bound  these  two 
embraced  a  third,  apparently  as  incongruous  as  possible, 
—Dr.  Benjamin  Wible,  also  of  Louisville,  a  former  part 
ner  of  Dr.  Bemiss.  Diogenes  we  used  to  call  him,  and 
he  did  his  best  to  deserve  the  name. 

His  countenance  was  forbidding,  except  when  lighted 
up  by  a  smile,  which  was  only  upon  rare  occasions. 
He  was  intolerant  of  what  he  called  "  stuff  and  nonsense," 
and  had  a  way  of  disconcerting  people  b}'  grunting  when 
ever  anything  like  sentimentality  or  gush  was  uttered 
in  his  presence. 

When  he  first   came,  his  stern,  dictatorial  manner, 


120  MEMORIES. 

together  with  the  persistent  coldness  which  resisted  all 
attempts  to  be  friendly  and  sociable,  hurt  and  offended 
me ;  but  he  was  so  different  when  among  the  sick,  so 
gentle,  so  benignant  beside  the  bedsides  of  suffering  men, 
that  I  soon  learned  to  know  and  appreciate  the  royal 
heart  which  at  other  times  he  managed  to  conceal  under 
a  rough  and  forbidding  exterior. 

Dr.  Archer,  of  Maryland,  was  as  complete  a  contrast 
as  could  be  imagined.  A  poet  of  no  mean  order,  in 
dulging  in  all  the  idios3rncrasies  of  a  poet,  he  was  yet 
a  man  of  great  nerve  and  an  excellent  surgeon.  Always 
dressed  with  careful  negligence,  his  hands  beautifully 
white,  his  beard  unshorn,  his  auburn  hair  floating  over 
his  uniformed  shoulders  in  long  ringlets,  soft  in  speech, 
so  very  deferential  to  ladies  as  to  seem  almost  lover- 
like,  he  was,  nevertheless,  very  manly.  Quite  a  cavalier 
one  could  look  up  to  and  respect.  At  first  I  thought 
him  effeminate,  and  did  not  like  him,  but  his  tender  ways 
with  my  sick  boys,  the  efficacy  of  his  prescriptions,  and 
his  careful  orders  as  to  diet  quite  won  me  over.  Our 
friendship  lasted  until  the  end  of  my  service  in  the 
Buckner  Hospital,  since  which  I  have  never  seen  him. 
Another  complete  contrast  to  Diogenes  was  Dr.  Con- 
way,  of  Virginia,  our  Chesterfield.  His  perfect  manners 
and  courtly  observance  of  the  smallest  requirements  of 
good  breeding  and  etiquette  made  us  feel  quite  as  if  we 
were  lord  and  ladies.  Dr.  Conway  had  a  way  of  con 
veying  subtle  indefinable  flattery  which  was  very  elevat 
ing  to  one's  self-esteem.  Others  enjoyed  it  in  full,  but 
often,  just  as  our  Chesterfield  had  interviewed  me,  infus 
ing  even  into  the  homely  subject  of  diet-lists  much  that 
was  calculated  to  puff  up  my  vanity,  in  would  stalk 
Diogenes,  who  never  failed  to  bring  me  to  a  realizing 
sense  of  the  hollowness  of  it  all.  Dr.  Hughes  was  a 
venerable  and  excellent  gentleman,  who  constituted  him- 


NEWNAN,   GEORGIA.  121 

self  ray  mentor.     Ho  never  failed  to  drop  in  every  day, 
being  always  ready  to  smooth  tangled  threads  for  me. 
He  was  forever  protesting  against  the  habit  I  had  con 
tracted  in  Kichmond,  and  never  afterwards  relinquished, 
of  remaining  late  by  the  bedside  of  dying  patients,  or 
going  to  the  wards  whenever  summoned  at  night.     Ho 
would  say,  "Daughter,  it  is  not  right,  it  is  not  safe;  not 
only  do  you  risk  contagion  by  breathing  the  foul  air  of 
the  wards  at  night,  but  some  of  these  soldiers  are  mighty 
rough  and  might  not  always  justify  your  confidence  in 
them."     But  I  would  not  listen.     My  firm  belief  in  the 
honor  of  "  my  boys"  and  in  their  true  and  chivalrous 
devotion    towards    myself   caused    mo   to    trust    them 
utterly  at  all  times  and  places.     I  can  truly  say  that 
never  during  the  whole  four  years  of  the  war  was  that 
trust  disturbed  by  even  the  roughest  man  of  them  all, 
although    I  was   often    placed   in   very  trying  circum 
stances,  many  times  being  entirely  dependent  upon  their 
protection  and  care,  which  never  failed  me.     So  I  used  to 
set  at  naught   the  well-meant  counsels  of   my  kindly 
old  friend,  to  laugh  at  his  lugubrious  countenance  and 
the  portentous  shaking  of  his  silvery  head.      We  re 
mained  firm  friends,  however,  and,  though  my  dear  old 
mentor  has  long  since  passed  away;  I  still  revere  his 
memory.     Dr.  Yates  was  an  ideal  Texan,  brave,  deter 
mined,  plain,  and  straightforward,  either  a  warm,  true 
friend  or  an  uncompromising  enemy.     He  wished  to  be 
tit  the  front,  and  was  never  satisfied  with  hospital  duties. 
Mrs.  Yates  was  a  favorite  with  all.     Dr.  Jackson,   of 
Alabama,  in  charge  of  the  officers'  quarters,  performed 
some   miracles  in  the   way  of  surgical  operation.     He 
was  a  great  favorite  with  his  patients,  who  complained 
bitterly  because  they  were  so  often  deprived  of  his  ser 
vices  for  a  time,  when  his  skilful  surgery  was  needed  at 
the  front.     Besides  these  were  Drs.  Devine,  Euell,  Estell 
*  11 


122  MEMORIES. 

Baruch,  Frost,  Carmichael,  Welford,  and  Griffith,  none  of 
whom  I  knew  particularly  well. 

******* 

Meantime,  the  wounded  of  several  battles  had  filled 
and  crowded  the  wards.  As  before,  every  train  came 
in  freighted  with  human  misery.  In  the  Buckner 
Hospital  alone  there  were  nearly  a  thousand  beds,  ten 
anted  by  every  conceivable  form  of  suffering. 

An  ambulance-train  arrived  one  night,  bringing  an 
unusually  large  number  of  sick  and  wounded  men, 
whose  piteous  moans  filled  the  air  as  they  were 
brought  up  the  hill  on  "  stretchers"  or  alighted  at  the 
door  of  the  hospital  from  ambulances,  which,  jolting 
over  the  rough,  country  road,  had  tortured  them 
inexpressibly. 

Occasionally  a  scream  of  agony  would  arise,  but 
more  frequently  suppressed  groans  bespoke  strong 
men's  suffering  manfully  borne.  In  the  ward  where 
those  badly  wounded  were  placed,  there  was  so  much 
to  be  done,  that  morning  found  the  work  unfinished. 

It  was,  therefore,  later  than  usual  when  I  found  time 
to  pay  my  usual  morning  visits  to  other  wards. 

Upon  entering  Ward  No.  4,  my  attention  was  at 
tracted  by  a  new  patient,  who  la}T  propped  up  on  one 
of  the  bunks  near  a  window.  He  was  a  mere  lad  (per 
haps  twenty).  His  eyes,  as  they  met  mine,  expressed 
so  plainly  a  sense  of  captivity  arid  extreme  dislike  of  it 
that  I  felt  very  sorry  for  him.  He  had  been  dressed  in 
a  clean  hospital  shirt,  but  one  shoulder  and  arm  was 
bare  and  bandaged,  for  he  was  wounded  in  the  left 
shoulder, — a  slight  wound,  but  sufficient  to  occasion 
severe  pain  and  fever. 

At  first  I  did  not  approach  him,  but  his  eyes  followed 
me  as  I  paused  by  each  bed  to  ascertain  the  needs  of 
the  sick  and  to  bestow  particular  care  in  many  cases. 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  123 

At  last  I  stood  by  his  side,  and,  placing  my  hand 
upon  his  head,  spoke  to  him.  He  moved  uneasily, 
seemingly  trying  to  repress  the  quivering  of  his  lip  and 
the  tears  that,  nevertheless,  would  come.  Not  wishing 
to  notice  his  emotion  just  then,  I  called  the  nurse,  and, 
by  way  of  diversion,  gave  a  few  trifling  directions,  then 
passed  on  to  another  ward. 

Eeturning  later,  bringing  some  cooling  drink  and  a 
bottle  of  Confederate  bay- water  (vinegar),  I  gave  him 
to  drink  and  proceeded  to  sponge  off  his  head  and 
hands.  He  submitted,  as  it  seemed  at  first,  unwillingly, 
but  just  as  I  turned  to  leave  him  he  suddenly  seized  my 
hand,  kissed  it,  and  laid  his  burning  cheek  upon  it. 
From  that  moment  I  was  eagerly  welcomed  by  him 
whenever  I  appeared  among  the  sick. 

When  he  began  to  mend  and  was  allowed  to  talk 
freely,  I  learned  his  name,  Charley  Percy,  that  ho 
was  a  native  of  Bayou  Sara,  Louisiana,  and  a  member 
of  the  fifth  company  of  Washington  Artillery,  Captain 
Slocomb  commanding.  He  had  been  wounded  at  Resaca. 
I  grew  to  love  him  dearly.  As  soon  as  he  was  per 
mitted  to  leave  his  bed  he  became  averse  to  remaining 
in  the  ward,  and  most  of  his  waking  hours  were  spent 
in  the  little  room  which  was  specially  allotted  to  me. 
Whenever  I  returned  after  my  rounds  among  the  sick 
it  was  a  certainty  that  the  glad,  bright  presence  awaited 
me,  and  that  many  little  plans  for  my  rest  and  comfort 
would  make  the  rough  place  homelike. 

He  became  to  me  like  a  dear  young  brother, -devoted 
and  ever-thoughtful.  The  matron's  room  at  the  hos 
pital  was  called  very  often  "  Soldiers'  Rest,"  and  some 
times  "The  Promised  Land,"  because  many  soldiers 
came  there  every  day,  and  those  newly  convalescent 
made  it  a  goal  which  they  aspired  to  reach  as  soon  as 
permitted. 


124  MEMORIES. 

This  habit  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  use  properly  what 
might  have  been  sent  in  boxes  which  arrived  frequently 
from  different  quarters,  filled  with  a  variety  of  goodies, 
but  in  quantities  entirely  insufficient  to  supply  all  the 
soldiers.  A  sangaree  or  any  other  delicacy,  taken  while 
resting  after  a  walk  which  taxed  the  weakened  energies 
to  the  utmost,  or  a  meal  served  outside  the  fevered  air 
of  the  wards,  did  more  to  build  up  the  strength  than 
any  amount  of  medicine  could  have  done.  As  there 
never  was,  by  any  chance,  a  supply  of  these  things  for 
one  thousand  men  (the  usual  number  assigned  to  Buck- 
ner  Hospital),  delicacies  (already  becoming  scarce)  were 
served  only  to  the  very  sick  or  to  convalescents. 

It  was  beautiful  to  see  how  young  Percy  delighted  to 
assist  in  waiting  on  these  visitors  to  "  The  Soldiers'  Best," 
— how  his  sprightliness  pleased  and  amused  them.  His 
own  great  embarrassment  seemed  to  be  that  he  had 
lost  all  his  clothes  at  the  time  he  was  wounded,  so 
was  compelled  to  wear  the  unbleached  shirts  with  blue 
cottonade  collars  and  cuffs,  which  were  supplied  to 
all  patients,  numbered  to  correspond  with  the  bunks. 
These  he  called  State's  prison  uniform.  One  da}7,  how 
ever,  Dr.  Fenner  from  New  Orleans,  Louisiana,  paid  a 
visit  to  Buckner  Hospital  (then  located  at  Newnan, 
Georgia),  leaving  with  me  two  large  boxes  of  clothing 
and  stores  for  the  Louisiana  soldiers.  Percy  assisted  to 
unpack  these  boxes,  soon  finding  himself  amply  pro 
vided  with  underclothing  and  a  nice  jacket  and  pants 
of  gray,  also  a  new  blanket.  He  was  pleased,  but  not 
yet  quite  satisfied,  for  the  jacket  was  simply  gray.  He 
wanted  it  trimmed  with  red. 

It  chanced  that  there  was  in  one  of  the  boxes  a  piece 
of  red  flannel.  With  this  I  trimmed  the  suit  under 
his  careful  supervision.  I  can  never  forget  how  happy 
he  was  to  get  into  this  suit,  or  how  he  danced  around 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  125 

me,  protending  to  go  through  the  artillery  drill,  and  to 
load  and  fire  at  imaginary  Yankees. 

Later,  his  cap  was  retrimmed,  the  letters  and  artillery 
badge  furbished  up,  and  one  beautiful  day  was  made  sad 
and  gloomy  to  his  friends  and  myself  by  the  departure 
of  this  brave,  dear  boy,  to  rejoin  his  command. 

Eager,  bright,  full  of  fire  and  ardor,  the  young 
soldier  went  to  meet  his  doom.  He  reached  the  front 
(where  the  company  to  which  he  belonged  was  always 
to  be  found)  shortly  before  the  battle  of  Peach-tree 
Creek,  and  here,  his  bright  young  face  turned  to  the  foe, 
his  eager  hands  serving  his  gun  to  the  last,  he  met  a 
soldier's  death. 

Alas!  poor  Percy,  his  fate  seemed  hard;  yet,  while 
sincerely  grieving,  I  remembered  with  some  degree  of 
comfort  the  fact  that  so  he  had  wished  to  die, — "Upon 
the  field  of  glory." 

There  came  to  the  hospital  at  the  same  time  with 
young  Percy  an  intimate  friend  and  comrade  of  his, 
whose  name  and  the  circumstances  of  his  death  were 
preserved  in  a  diary  kept  b}^  me,  but  which,  with  all  my 
papers,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy  subsequently. 
This  poor  fellow  had  pneumonia,  which  soon  developed 
into  typhoid.  He  was  delirious  when  brought  in  and 
never  regained  consciousness.  Yainly  I  strove  to  soothe 
him,  stroking  back  the  long,  straight  hair,  black  as  a 
raven's  wing,  vainly  trying  to  close  the  magnificent 
black  eyes,  which  forever  stared  into  space,  while  the 
plaintive  voice  repeated  ceaselessly,  "Viens  a  mot,  oh,  ma 
mere"  and  thus  he  moaned  and  moaned  until  at  last  the 
white  eyelids  drooped  beneath  the  gaze  of  Death,  and 
the  finger  of  eternal  silence  was  laid  upon  the  fevered 
lips. 

Of  course  Percy  was  not  told  how  his  friend  died  until 
long  afterward,  when  his  questions  could  no  longer  be 

11* 


126  MEMORIES. 

evaded.  He  was  deeply  moved,  crying  out,  "  I  don't 
want  to  die  like  that.  If  I  must  die  during  this  war,  I 
hope  I  shall  be  instantly  killed  upon  the  battle-field." 
This  wish  was  granted. 

He  sleeps  in  a  soldier's  grave.  In  the  light  of  eter 
nity  the  sad  mystery  which  still  shadows  the  hearts 
of  those  who  live  to  mourn  the  holy  cause — loved  and 
lost — exists  no  more  for  him. 

Besides  the  "  Buckner,"  there  were  the  "  Bragg"  and 
two  more  hospitals,  the  names  of  which  I  have  forgotten, 
one  presided  over  by  two  gentle  ladies, — Mrs.  Harrison 
and  Mrs. ,  of  Florida, — whose  devotion  and  self- 
sacrifice,  as  well  as  their  lovely  Christian  character  and 
perfect  manners,  made  them  well-beloved  by  everybody 
at  the  post.  Mrs.  Harrison  was  a  zealous  Episco 
palian.  Through  her  influence  and  correspondence  fre 
quent  services  were  held  in  Newnan.  We  several  times 
enjoyed  the  ministrations  of  Bishops  Quintard,  Beck- 
with,  and  Wilmer.  The  large  number  of  wounded  men, 
and  the  fearful  character  of  their  wounds,  made  skill 
and  devotion  on  the  part  of  the  surgeons  of  the  great 
est  importance.  These  conditions  were  well  fulfilled,  and 
aided  by  the  healthy  locality  "and"  (during  the  first 
few  months)  "  the  excellent  possibilities  open  to  our 
foragers,"  many  a  poor  fellow  struggled  back  to  com 
parative  health.  I  was  particularly  fortunate  while  in 
Newnan  in  having  at  my  command  supplies  of  clothing 
and  money  from  both  Louisiana  and  Alabama.  This, 
with  the  aid  of  my  own  wages,  which,  although  I  had 
refused  to  receive  them,  had  accumulated  and  been 
placed  to  my  account,  and  which  I  now  drew,  gave  me 
excellent  facilities  for  providing  comforts,  not  only  for 
the  sick,  but  for  the  braves  at  the  front,  whose  rations 
were  growing  "small  by  degrees  and  beautifully  less." 
Upon  two  occasions  I  received  visits  from  the  venerable 


NEWMAN,  GEORGIA.  127 

Dr  Fenner,  of  Louisiana,  and  his  colleague,  Mr.  Collins. 
Each  time  they  left  money  and  clothing,  giving  me 
large  discretionary  powers,  although  specifying  that,  as 
the  money  was  supplied  by  Louisianians,  the  soldiers 
from  that  State  should  be  first  considered.  Through 
Mr.  Peter  Hamilton,  of  Mobile,  Alabama,  I  also  received 
boxes  of  clothing  and  delicacies,  and,  upon  two  occasions, 
six  hundred  dollars  in  money,  with  the  request,  "  Of 
course,  help  our  boys  first,  but  in  any  case  where  suffer 
ings  or  need  exist,  use  your  own  judgment."  As  there 
were  hundreds  entirely  cut  off  from  home,  actually  suf 
fering  from  want  of  clothing,  sometimes  needing  a  little 
good  wine  or  extra  food,  I  found  many  occasions  where 
it  seemed  to  me  right  to  use  this  discretionary  power, 
especially  during  visits  to  the  front,  which  I  was  called 
upon  to  make  about  this  time,  first  to  my  husband  and 
his  comrades  in  Kingston  and  Dalton,  later  to  Macon  to 
look  up  some  Louisiana  and  Alabama  soldiers,  and  lastly 
to  Atlanta,  where  my  husband  and  many  other  friends 
lay  in  the  trenches.  (Of  these  experiences  more  here 
after.) 

Mrs.  Harrison,  Mrs.  Gamble,  myself,  and  one  or  two 
others  were  the  only  Episcopalians  among  the  ladies  of 
the  Post,  but  the  services  were  attended  by  soldiers, 
both  officers  and  privates.  Mrs.  Gamble,  of  course,  led 
the  choir.  We  could  always  find  bassos  and  tenors. 
I  sang  alto.  The  music  was  really  good.  The  death 
of  Bishop  Polk  was  a  great  grief  to  everybody,  especi 
ally  to  the  faithful  few  among  us  who  revered  him  as  a 
minister  of  The  Church.  Even  while  saying  to  our 
selves  and  to  each  other  "  God  knows  best,"  we  could  not 
at  once  stifle  the  bitterness  of  grief,  for  it  seemed  as  if 
a  mighty  bulwark  had  been  swept  away.  I  had  known 
Bishop  Polk  as  a  faithful  and  loving  shepherd  of  souls, 
feeding  his  flock  in  green  pastures,  tenderly  leading  the 


128  MEMORIES. 

weary  and  grief-stricken  ones  beside  the  waters  of  com 
fort.  But  when  the  peaceful  fold  was  invaded,  when 
threatening  howls  were  arising  on  every  side, — casting 
aside  for  a  time  the  garb  of  a  shepherd,  he  sallied  forth, 
using  valorously  his  trusty  sword,  opposing  to  the  ad 
vance  of  the  foe  his  own  faithful  breast,  never  faltering 
until  slain  by  the  horrid  fangs  which  greedily  fastened 
themselves  deep  in  his  heart.  As  I  have  already  men 
tioned,  I  made  during  the  winter  and  spring  several  vis 
its  to  the  front.  At  one  time  my  husband,  a  member  of 
Fenner's  Louisiana  Battery,  was  with  his  command  in 
winter  quarters  at  Kingston,  whither  I  went  to  pay  a 
visit  and  to  inquire  after  the  needs  of  the  "  boys."  My 
little  son  (who  had  by  this  time  joined  me  at  Ncvrnan) 
accompanied  me.  Kingston  was  at  this  time  a  bleak, 
dismal-looking  place.  I  stopped  at  a  large,  barn -like 
hotel,  from  the  gallery  of  which,  while  sitting  with  visit 
ors  from  camp,  I  witnessed  an  arrival  of  Georgia  militia, 
whose  disembarkation  from  a  train  in  front  of  the  hotel 
was  met  by  a  noisy  demonstration.  They  were  a  strange- 
looking  set  of  men,  but  had  "store  clothes,"  warm  wraps, 
sometimes  tall  hats,  in  all  cases  good  ones.  This,  with 
the  air  of  superiority  they  affected,  was  enough  to  pro 
voke  the  fun-loving  propensities  of  the  ragged,  rough- 
looking  veterans  who  had  collected  to  watch  for  the 
arrival  of  the  train.  As  the  shaking,  rickety  cars  passed 
out  of  sight,  these  raw  troops  walked  up  to  the  hotel 
and  there  strode  up  and  down,  assuming  supreme  indif 
ference  to  the  storm  of  raillery  which  assailed  them. 
Of  course  my  sympathies  were  with  the  veterans,  and 
I  laughed  heartily  at  their  pranks.  One  of  the  first  to 
set  the  ball  in  motion  was  a  tall,  athletic-looking  soldier 
clad  in  jeans  pants,  with  a  faded  red  stripe  adorning  one 
leg  only,  ragged  shoes  tied  up  with  twine  strings,  and  a 
flannel  shirt  which  undoubtedly  had  been  washed  by  the 


NEW  NAN,  GEORGIA.  129 

Confederate  military  process  (i.e.,  tied  by  a  string  to  a 
bush  on  the  bank  of  a  stream,  allowed  to  lie  in  the  water 
awhile,  then  stirred  about  with  a  stick  or  beat  upon  a 
rock,  and  hung  up  to  drip  and  dry  upon  the  nearest 
bush  or  tied  to  the  swaying  limb  of  a  tree).  "A  shock 
ing  bad  hat"  of  the  slouch  order  completed  his  costume. 
Approaching  a  tall  specimen  of"  melish,"  who  wore  a  new 
homespun  suit  of  "  butternut  jeans,"  a  gorgeous  cravat, 
etc.,  the  soldier  opened  his  arms  and  cried  out  in  intense 
accents,  "Let  me  kiss  him  for  his  mother!"  Another 
was  desired  to  "  come  out  of  that  hat."  A  big  veteran, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  a  small,  scared-looking, 
little  victim,  and  wiping  his  own  eyes  upon  his  old  hat, 
whined  out,  "I  say,  buddy,  you  didn't  bring  along  no 
sugar-teats,  did  you?  I'm  got  a  powerful  hankerin' 
alter  some."  An  innocent-looking  soldier  would  stop 
suddenly  before  one  of  the  new-comers  neatly  dressed, 
peer  closely  at  his  shirt-front,  renewing  the  scrutiny 
again  and  again  with  increasing  earnestness,  then,  strik 
ing  an  attitude,  would  cry  out,  "  Biled,  by  Jove !"  One, 
with  a  stiff,  thick,  new  overcoat,  was  met  with  the  anx 
ious  inquiry,  "  Have  you  got  plenty  of  stuffing  in  that 
coat,  about  here'1  (with  a  hand  spread  over  stomach 
and  heart),  "  because  the  Yankee  bullets  is  mighty  pene 
trating."  Each  new  joke  was  hailed  with  shouts  of 
laughter  and  ear-piercing  rebel  yells,  but  at  last  the 
"  melish"  was  marched  off  and  the  frolic  ended. 

I  received  two  invitations  for  the  following  day,  one 
to  dine  with  the  officers  of  Fenner's  Louisiana  Battery, 
and  one,  which  I  accepted,  from  the  soldiers  of  my  hus 
band's  mess.  About  twelve  o'clock  the  next  morning 
an  ambulance  stood  before  the  door  of  the  hotel.  From 
it  descended  a  spruce-looking  colored  driver,  who  re 
marked,  as  he  threw  the  reins  over  the  mule's  back, 
"Don't  nobody  go  foolin'  wid  dat  da  mule  ontwill  I  comes 
i 


130  MEMORIES. 

back.  I  jes  gwino  to  step  ober  to  de  store  yander  'bout 
some  biziness  fur  de  cap'n.  Dat  mule  he  feel  mity  gaily 
dis  mornin'.  Look  like  he  jes  tryin'  hisseif  when  he  fin' 
nuffin'  behin'  him  but  dis  amperlants  (ambulance)  stid  ob 
dem  hebby  guns."  Off  he  went,  leaving  the  mule  stand 
ing  without  being  tied,  and  looking  an  incarnation  of 
mischief.  The  road  to  camp  was  newly  cleared  and  full 
of  stumps  and  ruts.  As  I  stood  upon  the  upper  gallery 
awaiting  the  return  of  our  Jehu,  our  little  boy,  taking  ad 
vantage  of  the  extra  fondness  inspired  in  the  heart  of  his 
father  by  long  absence,  clamored  to  be  lifted  into  the  am 
bulance.  This  wish  was  gratified,  his  father  intending  to 
take  the  reins  and  mount  to  the  driver's  seat,  but  before  he 
could  do  so  the  mule  started  off  at  headlong  speed,  with 
Georgie's  scared  face  looking  out  at  the  back,  and  perhaps 
a  dozen  men  and  boys  in  hot  pursuit.  The  mule  went  on 
to  camp,  creating  great  alarm  there.  The  child  in  some 
miraculous  manner  rolled  out  at  the  back  of  the  ambu 
lance,  and  was  picked  \yp  unhurt.  This  accident  de 
layed  matters  a  little,  but  in  due- time  we  arrived  at  the 
village  of  log-huts,  called  "Camp,"  and,  having  paid 
our  respects  to  the  officers,  repaired  to  the  hut  of  my 
husband's  mess.  The  dinner  was  already  cooking  out 
side.  Inside  on  a  rough  shelf  were  piles  of  shining  tin- 
cups  and  plates,  newly  polished.  The  lower  bunk  had 
been  filled,  with  new,  pine  straw,  and  made  as  soft  as 
possible  by  piling  upon  it  all  the  blankets  of  the  mess. 
This  formed  the  chair  of  state.  Upon  it  were  placed, 
first,  myself  (the  centre  figure),  on  one  side  my  hus 
band,  exempt  from  duty  for  the  day,  on  the  other  my 
little  boy,  who,  far  from  appreciating  the  intended 
honor,  immediately  "  squirmed"  down,  and  ran  off  on  a 
tour  of  investigation  through  the  camp.  The  mess  con 
sisted  of  six  men  including  my  husband,  of  whom  the 
youngest  was  Lionel  C.  Levy,  Jr.,  a  mere  boy,  but  a 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA,  131 

splendid  soldier,  full  of  fun  and  nerve  and  dash.  Then 
there  was  my  husband's  bosom  friend,  J.  Hollingsworth, 
or  Uncle  Jake,  as  he  was  called  by  everybody.  Of  the 
industrial  pursuits  of  the  mess,  he  was  the  leading  spirit, 
indeed,  in  every  way  his  resources  were  unbounded.  His 
patience,  carefulness,  and  pains-taking  truly  achieved 
wonderful  results  in  contriving  and  carrying  into  execu 
tion  plans  for  the  comfort  of  the  mess.  He  always 
carried  an  extra  haversack,  which  contained  everything 
that  could  be  thought  of  to  meet  contingencies  or  repair 
the  neglect  of  other  people.  He  was  a  devoted  patriot 
and  a  contented,  uncomplaining  soldier;  never  sick, 
always  on  duty,  a  thorough  gentleman,  kindly  in  im 
pulses  and  acts,  but well,  yes,  there  was  one  spot  upon 

this  sun, — he  was  a  confirmed  bachelor.  He  could  face 
the  hottest  fire  upon  the  battle-field,  but  a  party  of 
ladies — never  with  his  own  consent.  Upon  the  day  in 
question,  however,  I  was  not  only  an  invited  guest,  but 
the  wife  of  his  messmate  and  friend.  So,  overcoming 
his  diffidence,  he  made  himself  very  agreeable,  and 
meeting  several  times  afterward  during  the  war,  under 
circumstances  which  made  pleasant  intercourse  just  as 
imperative,  we  became  fast  friends,  and  have  remained 
so  to  this  day.  John  Sharkey,  Miles  Sharkey,  and  one 
more,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  comprised,  with 
those  mentioned  above,  the  entire  mess.  The  dinner 
was  excellent,  better  than  many  a  more  elegant  and 
plentiful  repast  of  which  I  have  partaken  since  the  war. 
All  the  rations  of  beef  and  pork  were  combined  to  make 
a  fricassee  d  la  camp,  the  very  small  rations  of  flour  being 
mixed  with  the  cornmeal  to  make  a  large,  round  loaf 
of  "  stuff."  These  delectable  dishes  were  both  cooked 
in  bake-ovens  outside  the  cabin.  From  cross-sticks, 
arranged  gypsy-fashion,  swung  an  iron  pot,  in  which 
was  prepared  the  cornmeal  coffee,  which,  with  "long 


132  MEMORIES. 

sweetening"  (molasses)  and  without  milk,  composed  the 
meal.  In  this  well-arranged  mess  the  work  was  so 
divided  that  each  man  had  his  day  to  cut  all  the  wood, 
bring  all  the  water,  cook,  wash  dishes,  and  keep  the 
cabin  in  order.  So,  on  this  occasion  there  was  no 
confusion.  All  was  accomplished  with  precision.  In 
due  time  a  piece  of  board  was  placed  before  me  with 
my  rations  arranged  upon  it  in  a  bright  tin  plate,  my 
coffee  being  served  in  a  gorgeous  mug,  which,  I  strongly 
suspect,  had  been  borrowed  for  the  occasion,  having 
once  been  a  shaving-mug.  Dinner  over,  Lieutenant 
Cluverius  called  to  escort  me  through  the  camp,  and 
at  the  officers'  quarters  I  met  many  old  acquaintances. 
Upon  inquiry,  I  found  the  boys  in  camp  contented  and 
entirely  unwilling  to  receive  any  benefit  from  the  fund 
placed  in  my  hands.  They  had  taken  the  chances  of  a 
soldier's  life,  and  were  quite  willing  to  abide  by  them. 

The  terrible  bumping  which  I  had  experienced  while 
riding  to  camp,  in  the  ambulance  drawn  by  the  "gaily 
mule,"  disinclined  me  for  another  ride.  So,  just  at  sun 
set,  my  husband  and  I,  with  our  boy  and  one  or  two 
friends,  walked  through  the  piny  woods  to  the  hotel, 
whence  I  returned  next  day  to  Newnan.  This  was 
during  the  winter.  Later,  T  made  a  second  trip,  this 
time  to  Macon,  having  been  called  upon  to  supply  money 
to  the  family  of  an  old  soldier  (deceased)  who  wanted 
to  reach  home.  Wishing  to  investigate  in  person,  I 
went  to  Macon.  On  the  morning  of  my  return,  while 
passing  through  one  of  the  hospitals,  I  met  at  the 
bedside  of  a  Louisiana  soldier  a  member  of  Fenner's 
Battery,  John  Augustin,  of  New  Orleans.  At  the  depot 
we  met  again,  and  the  gentleman  very  kindly  took 
charge  of  me.  I  was  going  to  Newnan,  he  returning 
to  camp.  Delightful  conversation  beguiled  the  way. 
Among  other  subjects,  poets  and  poetry  were  discussed 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  133 

I  told  him  of  Dr.  Archer,  and  a  beautiful  "  Ode  to 
Hygoia"  composed  by  him,  parts  of  which  I  remembered 
and  repeated.  Gradually  I  discovered  that  Mr.  Augus- 
tin  had  an  unfinished  manuscript  of  his  own  with  him, 
entitled  "  Doubt,"  and  at  last  persuaded  him  to  let 
me  read  it.  Finding  me  interested,  he  yielded  to  my 
earnest  request, — that  he  would  send  me  all  his  poems  in 
manuscript.  In  due  time  they  came,  and  with  them  a 
dedication  to  myself,  so  gracefully  conceived,  so  beauti 
fully  expressed,  that  I  may  be  pardoned  for  inserting  it 
here. 

"L'ENVOl. 

"  TO    MRS.    FANNIE   A.    BEERS. 

"  To  you,  though  known  but  yesterday,  I  trust 

These  winged  thoughts  of  mine. 
Be  not,  I  pray,  too  critically  just, 
Rather  be  mercy  thine  I 

"  Nor  think  on  reading  my  despairing  rhymes 

That  I  am  prone  to  sigh. 
Poets,  like  children,  weep  and  laugh  at  times, 
Without  scarce  knowing  why  I 

"  Thoughts  tend  to  heaven,  mine  are  weak  and  faint. 

Please  help  them  up  for  me; 
The  sick  and  wounded  bless  you  as  a  saint, 
In  this  my  patron  be  ; 

"  And  as  the  sun  when  shining  it  appears 

On  dripping  rain  awhile, 
Make  a  bright  rainbow  of  my  fancy's  tears 

With  your  condoling  smile. 
"  KINGSTON   February  23,  1864." 

At  the  front,  desultory  fighting  was  always  going  on. 
Our  army  under  General  Johnston  acting  on  the  de 
fensive,  although  retreating,  contesting  every  step  of 
the  way,  and  from  intrenched  position,  doing  great 

12 


134  MEMORIES. 

damage  to  the  enemy.  As  the  spring  fairly  opened, 
our  troops  became  more  actively  engaged.  From  the 
skirmishes  came  to  us'  many  wounded.  In  May,  the 
battle  of  New  Hope  Church  was  fought.  General  John 
ston,  in  his  "  Narrative,"  speaks  of  this  as  "  the  affair  at 
New  Hope."  Judging  from  my  own  knowledge  of  the 
number  of  wounded  who  were  sent  to  the  rear,  and 
the  desperate  character  of  their  wounds,  I  should  say 
it  was  a  very  terrible  "affair."  A  great  many  officers 
were  wounded  and  all  our  wards  were  full.  There 
came  to  me  some  special  friends  from  Fenner's  Louisi 
ana  Battery,  which  was  heavily  engaged,  losing  several 
men  and  nearly  all  the  horses.  Lieutenant  Wat.  Tyler 
Cluverius,  while  standing  on  the  top  of  the  breast 
works  and  turning  towards  his  men  to  wave  his  sword, 
was  shot  through  both  shoulders,  a  very  painful  wound, 
but  which  the  gallant  young  soldier  made  light  of,  pre 
tending  to  be  deeply  mortified  because  "  he  had  been 
shot  in  the  back."  Although  an  exceptional  soldier,  he 
was  a  most  troublesome  patient,  because  his  strong 
desire  to  return  to  his  command  made  him  restless  and 
dissatisfied,  greatly  retarding  his  recovery.  Indeed, 
he  would  not  remain  in  bed  or  in  his  ward.  A  more 
splendid-looking  officer  I  never  saw.  Better  still,  un 
der  his  jacket  of  gray  there  beat  a  heart  instinct  with 
every  virtue  which  belongs  by  nature  to  a  Virginia 
gentleman.  With  the  ladies  of  the  "post"  he  became  a 
prime  favorite.  So  kind  and  attentive  were  they  that 
I  gave  myself  little  thought  concerning  him.  He  was 
off  and  away  in  a  wonderfully  short  time,  for  duty  lay 
at  the  front  and  the  strongest  attractions  could  not  out 
weigh  its  claims. 

W.  T.  Yaudry,  also  of  Fenner's  Louisiana  Battery,  was 
by  his  own  request  sent  to  me.  His  wound  was  as  pain 
ful  as  any  that  can  be  imagined.  Ho  had  been  struck 


NEW  NAN,  GEORGIA.  135 

full  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach  by  a  spent  ball,  and  was 
completely  doubled  up.  He  had  been  left  on  the  field 
for  dead,  and  for  some  time  it  was  feared  that  fatal 
internal  injuries  had  been  received.  From  the  nature 
of  the  wound,  a  full  examination  could  not  be  made  at 
first.  Speedy  relief  was  quite  impossible.  Even  the  loss 
of  a  limb  or  the  most  severe  flesh-wound  would  have 
caused  less  intense  agony.  Courage  and  endurance 
equally  distinguish  the  true  soldier:  the  one  distinction 
was  his  already,  the  other  he  now  nobly  won  during 
days  of  exquisite  torture.  I  little  thought  as  I  bent 
over  him  day  after  day,  bathing  the  fevered  brow,  meet 
ing  with  sorrowful  sympathy  the  eyes  dim  with  anguish, 
that  in  this  suffering  boy  I  beheld  one  of  the  future 
deliverers  of  an  outraged  and  oppressed  people.  The 
officers'  ward  was  delightfully  situated  on  the  corner 
of  the  main  street.  Its  many  windows  commanded  a 
pleasant  view  of  a  beautiful  shaded  square  in  the  midst 
of  which  stood  the  brick  court-house  (now  filled  with 
sick,  and  pertaining  to  the  Bragg  Hospital).  The  win 
dows  on  the  side  street  gave  a  view  far  up  the  street, 
becoming  a  post  of  observation  for  the  gallant  young  offi 
cers  within,  who  invariably  arranged  themselves  here  "/or 
inspection"  at  the  usual  hour  for  the  ladies'  promenade, 
looking  as  became  interesting  invalids,  returning  with 
becoming  languor  the  glances  of  bright  eyes  in  which 
shone  the  pity  which  we  are  told  is  "  akin  to  love."  Later 
these  knights  being  permitted  to  join  in  the  promenade, 
made  the  very  most  of  their  helplessness,  enjoying  hugely 
the  necessary  ministrations  so  simply  and  kindly  given. 
Among  these  officers  were  two  whose  condition  excited 
my  most  profound  sympathy  as  well  as  required  special 
care.  Both  were  exiles;  both  badly  wounded.  One, 
indeed,  bore  a  wound  so  terrible  that  even  though  I 
looked  upon  it  every  day,  I  could  never  behold  it  with- 


136  MEMORIES. 

out  a  shudder.  From  a  little  above  the  knee  to  the  toes 
the  mechanism  of  the  leg  was  entirely  exposed,  except 
upon  the  heel,  which  always  rested  in  a  suspensory 
bandage  lifted  above  the  level  of  the  bed  upon  which  he 
rested.  Every  particle  of  the  flesh  had  sloughed  off,  and 
the  leg  began  to  heal  not  "by  first  intention"  but  by 
unhealthy  granulations  like  excrescences.  These  had 
constantly  to  be  removed,  either  by  the  use  of  nitric  acid 
(I  believe)  or  by  the  knife.  As  may  be  imagined,  it  was 
horribly  painful,  and  there  was  no  chloroform.  Day  after 
day  I  was  sent  for,  and  stood  by,  while  this  terrible  thing 
was  going  on,  wiping  the  sweat  from  the  face  that,  though 
pale  as  death,  never  quivered.  Save  an  occasional  groan, 
deep  and  suppressed,  there  was  no  "fuss." 

Does  it  seem  to  you  that  this  was  exceptional,  dear 
reader?  Ah!  no;  in  the  wards  outside,  where  lay  hun 
dreds  of  private  soldiers,  without  the  pride  of  rank  to 
sustain  them,  only  their  simple,  noble  manhood,  I  daily 
witnessed  such  scenes.  The  courage  and  daring  of  our 
soldiers  have  won  full  appreciation  from  the  whole 
world.  Of  their  patient  endurance,  I  was  for  four 
years  a  constant  witness,  and  I  declare  that  it  was  sub 
lime  beyond  conception.  I  cannot  remember  the  name 
of  the  heroic  officer  whose  wound  I  have  described.  I 
remember,  however,  that  Dr.  Jackson  treated  it  success 
fully,  and  that  in  the  desperate  days,  towards  the  close 
of  the  war,  the  wounded  man  was  again  at  his  post.  I 
know  not  whether  he  fell  in  battle  or  if  he  still  lives 
bearing  that  horrible  scar.  Captain  Weller,  of  Louis 
ville,  Kentucky,  was  also  an  inmate  of  the  same  ward. 
My  remembrance  of  him  is  that  he  also  was  badly 
wounded.  I  also  recollect  that  he  was  a  great  favorite 
with  his  comrades  in  the  ward,  who  spoke  enthusiasti 
cally  of  his  "  record."  He  was  never  gay  like  the  others, 
but  self-contained  and  reticent,  and  frequently  grave 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  137 

and  sad,  as  became  an  exile  from  "the  old  Kentucky 
home."  My  cares  were  at  this  time  of  constant  skir 
mishing,  greatly  increased  by  anxiety  for  my  husband. 
He  had  at  the  battle  of  New  Hope  Church,  while  carry 
ing  ammunition  from  the  caisson  to  the  gun,  received  a 
slight  wound  in  the  left  foot,  but  did  not  consider  it 
of  sufficient  importance  to  cause  him  to  leave  his  com 
mand.  Later,  however,  he  succumbed  to  dysentery,  and 
after  the  battle  of  Jonesboro',  although  having  served 
his  gun  to  the  last,  he  was  utterly  overcome,  and  fell  by 
the  road-side.  The  last  ambulance  picked  him  up,  and 
he  was  sent  to  Newnan,  as  all  supposed,  to  die.  Had  I 
not  been  in  a  position  to  give  him  every  advantage  and 
excellent  nursing  he  must  have  died.  Even  with  this, 
the  disease  was  only  arrested,  not  cured,  and  for  years 
after  the  war  still  clung  about  him.  Under  Providence, 
his  life  was  saved  at  that  time.  This  one  blessing 
seemed  to  me  a  full  recompense  for  all  I  had  hitherto 
encountered,  and  a  thorough  justification  of  my  persist 
ence  in  the  course  I  marked  out  for  myself  at  the  be 
ginning  of  the  war.  Various  "affairs"  continued  to  em 
ploy  the  soldiers  at  the  front;  in  all  of  these  our  losses 
were  comparatively  small.  I  never  saw  the  soldiers  in 
better  spirits.  There  was  little  if  any  "  shirking."  As 
soon  as — almost  before — they  were  recovered  they  cheer 
fully  reported  for  duty.  The  "expediency"  of  John 
ston's  retreat  was  freely  discussed.  All  seemed  to  feel 
that  the  enemy  was  being  drawn  away  from  his  base 
of  supplies  into  a  strange  country,  where  he  would  be 
trapped  at  last,  and  to  feel  sure  that  it  was  "  all  right." 
"Let  old  Joe  alone,  he  knows  what  he  is  about,"  and  on 
every  hand  expressions  of  strong  affection  and  thorough 
confidence.  The  army  was  certainly  far  from  being 
"demoralized,"  as  General  Hood  must  have  discovered, 
when,  immediately  afterward,  on  the  22d  of  July,  and 

12* 


138  MEMORIES. 

later  at  Franklin,  they  withstood  so  magnificently  the 
shock  of  battle,  and  at  the  word  of  command  hurled 
themselves  again  and  again  against  the  enemy,  rushing 
dauntlessly  onward  to  meet  overwhelming  numbers  and 
certain  death.  On  the  18th  of  July,  the  news  reached 
us  that  General  Johnston  had  been  relieved  from  com 
mand,  and  that  General  Hood  had  succeeded  hirm  I 
knew  nothing  of  the  relative  merits  of  the  two  com 
manders,  and  had  no  means  of  judging  but  by  the  effect 
upon  the  soldiers  by  whom  I  was  then  surrounded.  The 
whole  post  seemed  as  if  stricken  by  some  terrible  calam 
ity.  Convalescents  walked  about  with  lagging  steps 
and  gloomy  faces.  In  every  ward  lay  men  who  wept 
bitterly  or  groaned  aloud  or,  covering  their  faces,  re 
fused  to  speak  or  eat.  From  that  hour  the  buoyant, 
hopeful  spirit  seemed  to  die  out.  I  do  not  think  any 
thing  was  ever  the  same  again.  For,  when  after  the 
awful  sacrifice  of  human  life  which  followed  the  inaugu 
ration  of  the  new  policy,  the  decimated  army  still  were 
forced  to  retreat,  the  shadow  of  doom  began  to  creep 
slowly  upon  the  land.  The  anchor  of  my  soul  was  my 
unbounded  confidence  in  President  Davis ;  while  he  was 
at  the  helm  I  felt  secure  of  ultimate  success,  and  bore 
present  ills  and  disappointments  patiently,  never  doubting. 
Meantime,  disquieting  rumors  were  flying  about,  rail 
road  communication  was  cut  off  here  and  there,  and 
with  it  mail  facilities.  Of  course  the  Confederate 
leaders  were  apprised  of  the  movements  of  the  Fed 
erals,  but  at  the  hospital  post  we  were  constantly  on  the 
qui  vive.  Large  numbers  of  convalescents  were  daily 
returning  to  the  front,  among  them  Lieutenant  Cluve- 
rius,  Mr.  Yaudry,  and  Captain  Weller. 

Eumors  of  the  approach  of  the  Federal  forces  under 
McCook  had  for  days  disquieted  our  minds.  The  little 
town  of  Newnan  and  immediately  surrounding  country 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  139 

was  already  full  of  refugees.  Every  day  brought  more. 
Besides,  the  presence  of  hundreds  of  sick  and  wounded, 
in  the  hospitals  which  had  been  established  there,  ren 
dered  the  prospect  of  an  advance  of  the  enemy  by  no 
means  a  pleasant  one.  But,  as  far  as  the  hospitals  were 
concerned,  the  surgeons  in  charge  must  await  orders 
from  headquarters.  As  long  as  none  were  received,  we 
felt  comparatively  safe. 

One  night,  however,  a  regiment  of  Roddy's  Confed 
erate  Cavalry  quietly  rode  in,  taking  possession  of  the 
railroad  depot  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  otherwise 
mysteriously  disposing  of  themselves  in  the  same 
neighborhood.  The  following  morning  opened  bright 
and  lovely,  bringing  to  the  anxious  watchers  of  the 
night  before  that  sense  of  security  which  always  comes 
with  the  light.  All  business  was  resumed  as  usual.  I 
had  finished  my  early  rounds,  fed  my  special  cases,  and 
was  just  entering  the  distributing-room  to  send  breakfast 
to  the  wards,  when  a  volley  of  musketry,  quickly  fol 
lowed  by  another  and  another,  startled  the  morning  air. 
Quickly  an  excited  crowd  collected  and  rushed  to  the 
top  of  the  hill  commanding  a  view  of  the  depot  and  rail 
road  track.  I  ran  with  the  rest.  "The  Yankees!  the  Yan 
kees  I"  was  the  cry.  The  firing  continued  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  then  ceased.  When  the  smoke  cleared  away,  our 
own  troops  could  be  seen  drawn  up  on  the  railroad  and 
on  the  depot  platform.  The  hill  on  the  opposite  side 
scorned  to  swarm  with  Yankees.  Evidently  they  had 
expected  to  surprise  the  town,  but,  finding  themselves 
opposed  by  a  force  whose  numbers  they  were  unable  to 
estimate,  they  hastily  retreated  up  the  hill.  By  that 
time  a  crowd  of  impetuous  boys  had  armed  themselves 
and  were  running  down  the  hill  on  our  side  to  join  the 
Confederates.  Few  men  followed  (of  the  citizens),  for 
those  who  were  able  had  already  joined  the  army. 


140  MEMORIES. 

Those  who  remained  were  fully  occupied  in  attending  to 
the  women  and  children. 

It  was  evident  that  the  fight  was  only  delayed.  An 
attack  might  be  expected  at  any  moment.  An  exodus 
from  the  town  at  once  began. 

Already  refugees  from  all  parts  of  the  adjacent  coun 
try  had  begun  to  pour  into  and  pass  through,  in  endless 
procession  and  every  conceivable  and  inconceivable  style 
of  conveyance,  drawn  by  horses,  mules,  oxen,  and  even 
by  a  single  steer  or  cow.  Most  of  these  were  women 
and  boys,  though  the  faces  of  young  children  appeared 
here  and  there, — as  it  were,  "thrown  in"  among  the 
•'plunder," — looking  pitifully  weary  and  frightened, 
yet  not  so  heart-broken  as  the  anxious  women  who 
knew  not  where  their  journey  was  to  end.  Nor  had 
they  "  where  to  lay  their  heads,"  some  of  them  having 
left  behind  only  the  smoking  ruins  of  a  home,  which, 
though  "  ever  so  lowly,"  was  "  the  sweetest  spot  on 
earth"  to  them.  McCook,  by  his  unparalleled  cruelty, 
had  made  his  name  a  horror. 

The  citizens  simply  stampeded,  "  nor  stood  upon  the 
order  of  their  going."  There  was  no  time  for  delibera 
tion.  They  could  not  move  goods  or  chattels,  only  a  few 
articles  of  clothing ;  no  room  for  trunks  and  boxes. 
Every  carriage,  wagon,  and  cart  was  loaded  down  with 
human  freight;  every  saddle-horse  was  in  demand.  All 
the  negroes  from  the  hospital  as  well  as  those  belonging 
to  the  citizens  were  removed  at  once  to  a  safe  distance. 
These  poor  creatures  were  as  much  frightened  as  any 
body  and  as  glad  to  get  away.  Droves  of  cattle  and 
sheep  were  driven  out  on  the  run,  lowing  and  bleating 
their  indignant  remonstrance. 

While  the  citizens  were  thus  occupied,  the  surgeons 
in  charge  of  hospitals  were  not  less  busy,  though  far 
more  collected  and  methodical.  Dr.  McAllister,  of  the 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  141 

"Buckner,"  and  Dr.  S.  M.  Bemiss,  of  the  "Bragg," 
were  both  brave,  cool,  executive  men.  Their  self-posses 
sion,  their  firm,  steady  grasp  of  the  reins  of  authority 
simplified  matters  greatly.  Only  those  unable  to  bear 
arms  were  left  in  the  wards.  Convalescents  would  have 
resented  and  probably  disobeyed  an  order  to  remain. 
Not  only  were  they  actuated  by  the  brave  spirit  of 
Southern  soldiers,  but  they  preferred  anything  to  re 
maining  to  be  captured, — better  far  death  than  the 
horrors  of  a  Northern  prison.  So  all  quietly  presented 
themselves,  and,  with  assistant-surgeons,  druggists,  and 
hospital  attendants,  were  armed,  officered,  and  marched 
off  to  recruit  the  regiment  before  mentioned. 

The  ladies,  wives  of  officers,  attendants,  etc.,  were  more 
difficult  to  manage,  for  dread  of  the  "  Yankees,"  com 
bined  with  the  pain  of  parting  with  their  husbands  or 
friends,  who  would  soon  go  into  battle,  distracted  them. 
Fabulous  prices  were  offered  for  means  of  conveyance. 
As  fast  as  one  was  procured  it  was  filled  and  crowded. 
At  last,  all  were  sent  off  except  one  two-horse  buggy, 
which  Dr.  McAllister  had  held  for  his  wife  and  myself, 
and  which  was  driven  by  his  own  negro  boy,  Sam. 
Meantime,  I  had  visited  all  the  wards,  for  some  of  the 
patients  were  very  near  death,  and  all  were  in  a  state 
of  great  and  injurious  excitement.  I  did  not  for  a 
moment  pretend  to  withstand  their  entreaties  that  I 
would  remain  with  them,  having  already  decided  to  do 
so.  Their  helplessness  appealed  so  strongly  to  my  sym 
pathies  that  I  found  it  impossible  to  resist.  Besides,  I 
had  an  idea  and  a  hope  that  even  in  the  event  of  the 
town  being  taken  I  might  prevail  with  the  enemy  to 
ameliorate  their  condition  as  prisoners.  So  I  promised, 
and  quietly  passed  from  ward  to  ward  announcing 
my  determination,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully.  Excite 
ment,  so  great  that  it  produced  outward  calm,  enabled 


142  MEMORIES. 

me  to  resist  the  angry  remonstrances  of  the  surgeon 
and  the  tearful  entreaties  of  Mrs.  McAllister,  who  was 
nearly  beside  herself  with  apprehension.  At  last  every 
body  was  gone ;  intense  quiet  succeeded  the  scene  of 
confusion.  I  was  alone, — left  in  charge.  A  crushing 
sense  of  responsibility  fell  upon  my  heart.  The  alarm 
had  been  first  given  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
By  three  the  same  afternoon  soldiers,  citizens,  all  had 
disappeared. 

Only  a  few  men  who,  by  reason  of  wounds  too  re 
cently  healed  or  from  other  causes,  were  unable  to 
march  or  to  fight  had  been  left  to  act  as  nurses. 

I  sat  down  upon  the  steps  of  my  office  to  think  it 
over  and  to  gather  strength  for  all  I  had  to  do.  On 
either  side  of  me  were  two-story  stores  which  had  been 
converted  into  wards,  where  the  sickest  patients  were 
generally  placed,  that  I  might  have  easy  access  to  them. 
Suddenly,  from  one  of  the  upper  wards,  I  heard  a  hoarse 
cry,  as  if  some  one  had  essayed  to  give  the  rebel  yell. 
Following  it  a  confused  murmur  of  voices.  Eunning 
hastily  up-stairs,  I  met  at  the  door  of  the  ward  a 
ghastty  figure,  clad  all  in  white  (the  hospital  shirt  and 
drawers),  but  with  a  military  cap  on  his  head.  It  was 
one  of  my  fever  patients  who  had  been  lying  at  death's 
door  for  days.  The  excitement  of  the  morning  having 
brought  on  an  access  of  fever  with  delirium,  he  had 
arisen  from  his  bed,  put  on  his  cap,  and  started,  yelling, 
"  to  join  the  boys  /"  Weak  as  I  had  supposed  him  to  be, 
his  strength  almost  over-mastered  my  own.  I  could 
hardly  prevent  him  from  going  down  the  stairs.  The 
only  man  in  the  ward  able  to  assist  me  at  all  was 
minus  an  arm  and  just  recovering  after  amputation. 
T  was  afraid  his  wound  might  possibly  begin  to  bleed, 
besides,  I  knew  that  any  man's  interference  would  ex 
cite  the  patient  still  more.  Relying  upon  the  kindly, 


NEW  NAN,  GEORGIA.  U3 

chivalrous  feeling  which  my  presence  always  seemed  to 
inspire  in  my  patients,  I  promised  to  get  his  gun  for 
him  if  he  would  go  back  and  put  on  his  clothes,  and, 
placing  my  arm  around  the  already  tottering  and  sway 
ing  figure,  by  soothing  and  coaxing  got  him  back  to  the 
bed.  A  sinking  spell  followed,  from  which  he  never 
rallied.  In  a  lower  ward  another  death  occurred,  due 
also  to  sudden  excitement. 

Fearful  of  the  effect  that  a  knowledge  of  this  would 
have  upon  other  patients,  I  resorted  to  deception,  de 
claring  that  the  dead  men  were  better  and  asleep,  cover 
ing  them,  excluding  light  from  windows  near  them,  and 
even  pretending  at  intervals  to  administer  medicines. 

And  now  came  another  trial,  from  which  I  shrank 
fearfully,  but  which  must  be  borne. 

In  the  "  wounded  wards,"  and  in  tents  outside  where 
men  having  gangrene  were  isolated,  horrible  sights 
awaited  me, — sights  which  I  trembled  to  look  upon, — 
fearful  wounds  which  had,  so  far,  been  attended  to  only 
by  the  surgeons. 

These  wounds  were  now  dry,  and  the  men  were  groan 
ing  with  pain.  Minute  directions  having  been  left  with 
me,  I  must  nerve  myself  to  uncover  the  dreadful  places, 
wash  them,  and  apply  fresh  cloths.  In  the  cases  of  gan 
grene,  poultices  of  yeast  and  charcoal,  or  some  other 
preparation  loft  by  the  surgeons. 

Entering  Ward  No.  3,  where  there  were  many  badly- 
wounded  men,  I  began  my  work  upon  a  boy  of  perhaps 
nineteen  years,  belonging  to  a  North  Carolina  regiment, 
who  had  one-half  of  his  face  shot  away. 

My  readers  may  imagine  the  dreadful  character  of 
the  wounds  in  this  ward,  when  I  relate  that  a  day  or 
two  after  a  terrible  battle  at  the  front,  when  dozens  of 
wounded  were  brought  in,  so  badly  were  they  mangled 
and  so  busy  were  the  surgeons,  that  I  was  permitted  to 


144  MEMORIES. 

dress  this  boy's  face  unaided.  Then  it  was  bad  enough, 
but  neither  so  unsightly  nor  so  painful  as  now  that  in 
flammation  had  supervened.  The  poor  boy  tried  not  to 
flinch.  His  one  bright  eye  looked  gratefully  up  at  me. 
After  I  had  finished,  he  wrote  upon  the  paper  which  was 
always  at  his  hand,  "You  didn't  hurt  me  like  them 
doctors.  Don't  let  the  Yankees  get  me,  I  want  to  have 
another  chance  at  them  when  I  get  well."  Having 
succeeded  so  well,  I  "  took  heart  of  grace,"  and  felt  little 
trepidation  afterward.  But — oh!  the  horror  of  it.  An 
Arkansas  soldier  lay  gasping  out  his  life,  a  piece  of 
shell  having  carried  away  a  large  portion  of  his  breast, 
leaving  the  lungs  exposed  to  view.  No  hope,  save  to 
alleviate  his  pain  by  applying  cloths  wet  with  cold  water. 
Another,  from  Tennessee,  had  lost  a  part  of  his  thigh, 
— and  so  on.  The  amputations  were  my  greatest  dread, 
lest  I  might  displace  bandages  and  set  an  artery  bleed 
ing.  So  I  dared  not  remove  the  cloths,  but  used  an 
instrument  invented  by  one  of  our  surgeons,  as  may 
be  imagined,  of  primitive  construction,  but  which,  wet 
ting  the  tender  wounds  gradually  by  a  sort  of  spray, 
gave  great  relief.  Of  course,  fresh  cloths  were  a  constant 
necessity  for  suppurating  wounds,  but  for  those  nearly 
healed,  or  simply  inflamed,  the  spray  was  invaluable. 
The  tents  were  the  last  visited,  and  by  the  time  I  had 
finished  the  rounds,  it  was  time  to  make  some  arrange 
ments  for  the  patients'  supper,  for  wounded  men  are 
always  hungry. 

I  remember  gratefully  to  this  day  the  comfort  and 
moral  support  I  received  during  this  trying  ordeal  from 
a  South  Carolina  soldier,  who  even  then  knew  that  his 
own  hours  were  numbered,  and  was  looking  death  in 
the  face  with  a  calm  resignation  and  courage  which  was 
simply  sublime.  He  had  been  shot  in  the  spine,  and 
from  the  waist  down  was  completely  paralyzed.  After 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  145 

be  had  been  wounded,  some  one  unintentionally  baving 
laid  bim  down  too  near  a  fire,  bis  feet  were  burned  in  a 
sbocking  manner.  He  was  one  of  tbe  handsomest  men 
I  ever  saw,  and,  even  in  his  present  condition,  of  com 
manding  presence  and  of  unusual  intelligence.  I  strive 
in  vain  to  recall  his  name,  but  memory  in  this  as  in  many 
other  cases  of  patients  to  whom  I  was  particularly  at 
tracted  will  present  their  faces  only.  Calling  me  to  his 
bedside  he  spoke  kindly  and  cheerfully,  praising  my 
efforts,  encouraging  me  to  go  on,  drawing  upon  his  store 
of  general  knowledge  for  expedients  to  meet  the  most 
trying  cases. 

Everything  that  Dr.  McAllister  did  was  well  and 
completely  done.  He  was  kind-hearted,  generous,  ready 
to  do  or  Sacrifice  anything  for  tbe  real  good  of  bis 
patients  ;  but  his  rules  once  laid  down  became  immuta 
ble  laws,  not  to  be  transgressed  by  any.  His  constant 
supervision  and  enforcement  of  rules  affected  every  de 
partment  of  tbe  hospital.  In  my  own,  I  had  only  to 
report  a  dereliction  of  duty,  and  the  fate  of  the  culprit 
was  sealed.  If  a  woman,  I  had  orders  to  discharge  her; 
if  a  man,  the  next  train  bore  him  to  his  regiment  or  to 
the  office  of  the  medical  director,  upon  whose  tender 
mercies  no  wrong-doer  could  rely. 

Consequently,  I  had  only  to  go  to  my  well-ordered 
kitchen  to  find  ready  the  food  which  it  had  been  my 
first  care  to  have  prepared  in  view  of  the  (as  I  hoped) 
temporary  absence  of  the  cooks.  The  departing  men 
had  all  taken  marching  rations  with  them,  but  there 
was  still  plenty  of  food  on  hand.  A  bakery  was  at 
tached  to  the  Buckner.  We  also  owned  several  cows. 
In  the  bakery  was  plenty  of  corn-bread  and  some  loaves 
of  flour-bread,  although  flour  was  even  then  becoming 
scarce. 

Tbe  cows,  with  full  udders,  stood  lowing  at  the  bars 
Q  k  13 


146  MEMORIES. 

of  the  pen.  Among  the  doubts  and  fears  that  had  as 
sailed  me,  the  idea  that  I  might  have  trouble  with  these 
cows  never  occurred  to  my  mind.  During  my  child 
hood  my  mother  had  owned  several.  I  had  often  seen 
them  milked.  One  had  only  to  seize  the  teats  firmly, 
pull  quietly  downward,  and  two  streams  of  rich  milk 
would  follow.  Oh,  yesl  I  could  do  that  easily.  But 
when  I  arrived  at  the  pen,  a  tin  bucket  in  one  hand,, 
a  milk  ing-stool  in  the  other,  and  letting  down  the  bars, 
crept  inside,  the  cows  eyed  me  with  evident  distrust 
and  even  shook  their  horns  in  a  menacing  manner 
which  quite  alarmed  me.  However,  I  marched  up  to 
the  one  which  appeared  the  mildest-looking,  and  sitting 
down  by  her  side,  seized  two  of  the  teats,  fully  expect 
ing  to  hear  the  musical  sound  of  two  white*  streamlets 
as  they  fell  upon  the  bottom  of  the  tin  bucket.  Not  a 
drop  could  I  get.  My  caressing  words  and  gentle  re 
monstrances  had  not  the  slightest  effect.  If  it  is  possi 
ble  for  an  animal  to  feel  and  show  contempt,  it  was 
revealed  in  the  gaze  that  cow  cast  upon  me  as  she 
turned  her  head  to  observe  my  manoeuvres.  I  had  heard 
that  some  cows  have  a  bad  habit  of  holding  back  their 
milk.  Perhaps  this  was  one  of  them.  I  would  try 
another.  Removing  the  stool  to  the  side  of  another 
meek-looking  animal,  I  essayed  to  milk  her.  But  she 
switched  her  tail  in  my  face,  lifting  a  menacing,  hor 
rid  hoof.  "  Soh,  bossy  I"  cried  I.  "Pretty,  pretty  cow 
that  makes  pleasant  milk  to  soak  my  bread."  In  an 
other  moment  I  was  seated  flat  upon  the  ground,  while 
my  pretty,  pretty  cow  capered  wildly  among  the  rest, 
so  agitating  them  that,  thinking  discretion  the  better 
part  of  valor,  I  hastily  climbed  over  the  fence  at  the 
point  nearest  to  me  and  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

What  should  I  do  now  ?    Perhaps  one  of  the  decrepit 
nurses  left  in  the  ward  knew  how  to  milk.     But  no, 


NEW  NAN,  GEORGIA.  147 

they  did  not,  except  one  poor,  limping  rheumatic  who 
could  only  use  one  hand.  Just  then  a  feeble-looking 
patient  from  the  Bragg  Hospital  came  tottering  along. 
He  also  knew  how  to  milk,  and  they  both  volunteered 
to  try.  Much  to  my  surprise  and  delight,  the  cows  now 
behaved  beautifully,  perhaps  owing  to  the  fact  that, 
obeying  the  injunctions  of  my  two  recruits,  I  provided 
each  with  a  bundle  of  fodder  to  distract  their  attention 
during  the  milking  process.  There  was  more  milk  than 
I  could  possibly  use,  as  nearly  all  the  convalescents  were 
absent.  So  I  set  several  pans  of  it  away,  little  thinking 
how  soon  it  would  be  needed. 

By  the  time  all  had  been  fed,  I  felt  very  weary ;  but 
it  was  midnight  before  I  found  a  minute's  time  to  rest. 

I  had  made  frequent  rounds  through  all  the  buildings 
of  the  hospital,  each  time  finding  some  one  who  had 
need  of  me.  At  last,  wearied  out  by  the  excitement  of 
the  day,  the  sick  grew  quiet  and  inclined  to  sleep.  Ke- 
leased  for  a  time,  I  sat  down  on  the  steps  of  my  office  to 
think  and  to  listen :  for  I  did  not  know  anything  of  the 
whereabouts  of  the  enemy.  The  town  might  have  been 
surrendered.  At  any  moment  the  Federal  soldiers  might 
appear.  Just  then,  however,  the  streets  were  utterly 
deserted.  The  stillness  was  oppressive. 

If  I  could  only  discover  a  friendly  light  in  one  of  these 
deserted  dwellings.  Oh,  for  the  sound  of  a  kindly  voice, 
the  sight  of  a  familiar  face ! 

Doubtless  there  may  have  been  some  who  had  re 
mained  to  protect  their  household  gods,  but  they  were 
women,  and  remained  closely  within  doors. 

Melancholy  thoughts  oppressed  me.  Through  gather 
ing  tears  I  gazed  at  the  pale  moon,  whose  light  seemed 
faded  and  wan.  There  came  to  me  memories  of  the 
long-ago,  when  I  had  strayed  among  the  orange-groves 
of  tny  own  dear  home  under  a  moonlight  far  more  radi- 


148  MEMORIES. 

ant,  happy  in  loved  companionship,  listening  with  de 
light  to  the  voices  of  the  night,  which  murmured  only 
of  love  and  joy  and  hope,  inhaling  the  perfume  of  a 
thousand  flowers.  To-night,  as  the  south  wind  swept 
by  in  fitful  gusts,  it  seemed  to  bear  to  my  ears  the 
sound  of  sorrow  and  mourning  from  homes  and  shrines 
where  hope  lay  dead  amid  the  ruined  idols  cast  down 
and  broken  by  that  stern  iconoclast — War. 

As  I  sat  thus,  buried  in  thought,  a  distant  sound  broke 
the  silence,  sending  a  thrill  of  terror  to  my  heart.  It 
was  the  tramp  of  many  horses  rapidly  approaching. 
"Alas !  alas !  the  enemy  had  come  upon  us  from  the  rear. 
Our  brave  defenders  were  surrounded  and  their  retreat 
cut  off." 

I  knew  not  what  to  expect,  but  anxiety  for  nay  patients 
banished  fear.  Seizing  a  light-wood  torch,  I  ran  up  the 
road,  hoping  to  interview  the  officers  at  the  head  of  the 
column  and  to  intercede  for  my  sick,  perhaps  to  prevent 
intrusion  into  the  wards.  To  my  almost  wild  delight, 
the  torch-light  revealed  the  dear  old  gray  uniforms.  It 
was  a  portion  of  Wheeler's  Cavalry  sent  to  reinforce 
Roddy,  whose  meagre  forces,  aided  by  the  volunteers 
from  Newnan,  had  held  the  Federals  in  check  until 
now,  but  were  anxiously  expecting  this  reinforcement. 

The  men  had  ridden  far  and  fast.  They  now  came  to 
a  halt  in  front  of  the  hospital,  but  had  not  time  to  dis 
mount,  hungry  and  thirsty  though  they  were.  The 
regimental  servants,  however,  came  in  search  of  water 
with  dozens  of  canteens  hung  around  them,  rattling  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  show  that  they  were  quite  empty. 
For  the  next  half- hour,  I  believe,  I  had  almost  the 
strength  of  Samson.  Bushing  to  the  bakery,  I  loaded 
baskets  with  bread  and  handed  them  up  to  the  soldier- 
boys  to  be  passed  along  until  emptied.  I  then  poured 
all  the  milk  I  had  into  a  large  bucket,  added  a  dipper, 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  149 

and,  threading  in  and  out  among  the  horses,  ladled  out 
dipperfuls  until  it  was  all  gone.  I  then  distributed 
about  four  buckets  of  water  in  the  same  way.  My  ex 
citement  was  so  great  that  not  a  sensation  of  fear  or  of 
fatigue  assailed  me.  Horses  to  the  right  of  me,  horses 
to  the  left  of  me,  horses  in  front  of  me,  snorted  and 
pawed ;  but  God  gave  strength  and  courage :  I  was  not 
afraid. 

A  comparatively  small  number  had  been  supplied, 
when  a  courier  from  Roddy's  command  rode  up  to  hasten 
the  reinforcements.  At  once  the  whole  column  was  put 
in  motion.  As  the  last  rider  disappeared,  and  the  tramp 
ing  of  the  horses  died  away  in  the  distance,  a  sense  of 
weariness  and  exhaustion  so  overpowered  me  that  I 
could  have  slept  where  I  stood.  So  thorough  was  my 
confidence  in  the  brave  men  who  were  sure  to  repel  the 
invaders  that  all  sense  of  danger  passed  away. 

My  own  sleeping-room  was  in  a  house  situated  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill.  I  could  have  gone  there  and  slept 
securely,  but  dared  not  leave  my  charges.  Sinking  upon 
the  rough  lounge  in  my  office,  intending  only  to  rest,  I 
fell  fast  asleep.  I  was  awakened  by  one  of  the  nurses, 
who  had  come  to  say  that  I  was  needed  by  a  patient 
whom  he  believed  to  be  dying,  and  who  lay  in.  a  ward 
on  the  other  side  of  the  square. 

As  we  passed  out  into  the  street,  another  beautiful 
morning  was  dawning.  Upon  entering  Ward  No.  9, 
we  found  most  of  the  patients  asleep.  But  in  one  cor 
ner,  between  two  windows  which  let  in  the  fast-increas 
ing  light,  lay  an  elderly  man,  calmly  breathing  his 
life  away.  The  morning  breeze  stirred  the  thin  gray 
hair  upon  his  hollow  temples,  rustling  the  leaves  of 
the  Bible  which  lay  upon  his  pillow.  Stooping  over 
him  to  feel  the  fluttering  pulse,  and  to  wipe  the  clammy 
sweat  from  brow  and  hands,  I  saw  that  he  was  indeed 

13* 


150  MEMORIES. 

dying,  a  victim  of  that  dreadful  scourge  that  decimated 
the  ranks  of  the  Confederate  armies  more  surely  than 
many  battles,— dysentery, — which,  if  not  cured  in  the 
earlier  stages,  resulted  too  surely,  as  now,  in  consump 
tion  of  the  bowels. 

He  was  a  Kentuckian,  cut  off  from  home  and  friends, 
and  dying  among  strangers.  An  almost  imperceptible 
glance  indicated  that  he  wished  me* to  take  up  his  Bible. 
The  fast-stiffening  lips  whispered,  "Read."  I  read  to 
him  the  Fourteenth  Chapter  of  St.  John,  stopping  fre 
quently  to  note  if  the  faint  breathing  yet  continued. 
Each  time  he  would  move  the  cold  fingers  in  a  way  that 
evidently  meant  "go  on"  After  I  had  finished  the  read 
ing,  he  whispered,  so  faintly  that  I  could  just  catch  the 
words,  " Rock  of  Ages"  and  I  softly  sang  the  beautiful 
hymn. 

Two  years  before  I  could  not  have  done  this  so  calmly. 
At  first  every  death  among  my  patients  seemed  to  me 
like  a  personal  bereavement.  Trying  to  read  or  to  sing 
by  the  bedsides  of  the  dying,  uncontrollable  tears  and 
sobs  would  choke  my  voice.  As  I  looked  my  last  upon 
dead  faces,  I  would  turn  away  shuddering  and  sobbing, 
for  a  time  unfit  for  duty.  Now,  my  voice  did  not  once 
fail  or  falter.  Calmly  I  watched  the  dying  patient,  and 
saw  (as  I  had  seen  a  hundred  times  before)  the  gray 
shadow  of  death  steal  over  the  shrunken  face,  to  be 
replaced  at  the  last  by  a  light  so  beautiful  that  I  could 
well  believe  it  came  shining  through  "the  gates  ajar." 

It  was  sunrise  when  I  again  emerged  from  Ward  No. 
9.  Hastening  to  my  room,  I  quickly  bathed  and  re 
dressed,  returning  to  my  office  in  half  an  hour,  refreshed 
and  ready  for  duty. 

The  necessity  for  breakfast  sufficient  to  feed  the  hungry 
patients  recalled  to  me  the  improvidence  of  my  action 
in  giving  away  so  much  bread  the  night  before.  It  had 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  151 

gone  a  very  little  way  toward  supplying  the  needs  of  so 
large  a  body  of  soldiers,  and  now  my  own  needed  it. 

There  was  no  quartermaster,  no  one  to  issue  fresh 
rations.  Again  I  had  the  cows  milked,  gathered  up 
all  the  corn-bread  that  was  left,  with  some  hard-tack, 
and  with  the  aid  of  the  few  decrepit  nurses  before  men 
tioned  made  a  fire,  and  warmed  up  the  soup  and  soup- 
meat  which  had  been  prepared  for  the  convalescent  table 
the  day  before,  but  was  not  consumed.  My  patients, 
comprehending  the  situation,  made  the  best  of  it.  But 
the  distribution  was  a  tedious  business,  as  many  of  the 
patients  had  to  be  fed  by  myself. 

I  had  hardly  begun  when  some  of  the  men  declared 
they  "  heard  guns."  I  could  not  then  detect  the  sound, 
but  soon  it  grew  louder  and  more  sustained,  and  then 
we  knew  a  battle  was  in  progress.  For  hours  the  fight 
went  on.  We  awaited  the  result  in  painful  suspense. 
At  last  the  ambulances  came  in,  bringing  some  of  the 
surgeons  and  some  wounded  men,  returning  immediately 
for  others.  At  the  same  time  the  hospital  steward  with 
his  attendants  and  several  of  our  nurses  arrived,  also 
the  linen-master,  the  chief  cook,  and  the  baker.  With 
them  came  orders  to  prepare  wards  for  a  large  number 
of  wounded,  both  Confederate  and  Federal.  Presently  a 
cloud  of  dust  appeared  up  the  road,  and  a  detail  of  Con 
federate  cavalry  rode  into  town,  bringing  eight  hundred 
Federal  prisoners,  who  were  consigned  to  a  large  cotton 
warehouse,  situated  almost  midway  between  the  hospital 
and  the  railroad  depot. 

My  terrible  anxiety,  suspense,  and  heavy  responsi 
bility  was  now  at  an  end,  but  days  and  nights  of  nurs 
ing  lay  before  all  who  were  connected  with  either  the 
Buckner  or  Bragg  Hospitals.  Additional  buildings  were 
at  once  seized  and  converted  into  wards  for  the  recep 
tion  of  the  wounded  of  both  armies.  The  hospital 


152  MEMORIES. 

attendants,  though  weary,  hungry,  and  some  of  them 
terribly  dirty  from  the  combined  effect  of  perspiration, 
dust,  and  gunpowder,  at  once  resumed  their  duties. 
The  quartermaster  reopened  his  office,  requisitions  were 
made  and  filled,  and  the  work  of  the  different  depart 
ments  was  once  more  put  in  regular  operation. 

I  was  busy  in  one  of  the  wards,  when  a  messenger 
drove  up,  and  a  note  was  handed  me  from  Dr.  McAllis 
ter, — "  Some  of  our  men  too  badly  wounded  to  be  moved 
right  away.  Come  out  at  once.  Bring  cordials  and 
brandy, — soup,  if  you  have  it, — also  fill  the  enclosed 
requisition  at  the  drug-store.  Lose  no  time." 

The  battle-field  was  not  three  miles  away.  I  was 
soon  tearing  along  the  road  at  breakneck  speed.  At  an 
improvised  field-hospital  I  met  the  doctor,  who  vainly 
tried  to  prepare  me  for  the  horrid  spectacle  I  was  about 
to  witness. 

From  the  hospital-tent  distressing  groans  and  screams 
came  forth.  The  surgeons,  both  Confederate  and  Fed 
eral,  were  busy,  with  coats  off,  sleeves  rolled  up,  shirt- 
fronts  and  hands  bloody.  But  our  work  lay  not 
here. 

Dr.  McAllister  silently  handed  me  two  canteens  of 
water,  which  I  threw  over  my  shoulder,  receiving  also 
a  bottle  of  peach  brandy.  We  then  turned  into  a 
ploughed  field,  thickly  strewn  with  men  and  horses, 
many  stone  dead,  some  struggling  in  the  agonies  of 
death.  The  plaintive  cries  and  awful  struggles  of  the 
horses  first  impressed  me.  They  were  shot  in  every 
conceivable  manner,  showing  shattered  heads,  broken 
and  bleeding  limbs,  and  protruding  entrails.  They 
would  not  yield  quietly  to  death,  but  continually  raised 
their  heads  or  struggled  half-way  to  their  feet,  uttering 
cries  of  pain,  while  their  distorted  eyes  seemed  to  reveal 
their  suffering  and  implore  relief.  I  saw  a  soldier  shoot 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  153 

one  of  these  poor  animals,  and  felt  truly  glad  to  know 
that  his  agony  was  at  an  end. 

The  dead  lay  around  us  on  every  side,  singly  and  in 
groups  and  piles;  men  and  horses,  in  some  cases,  ap 
parently  inextricably  mingled.  Some  lay  as  if  peace 
fully  sleeping;  others,  with  open  eyes,  seemed  to  glare 
at  any  who  bent  above  them.  Two  men  lay  as  they 
had  died,  the  "  Blue"  and  the  "  Gray,"  clasped  in  a  fierce 
embrace.  What  had  passed  between  them  could  never 
be  known  ;  but  one  was  shot  in  the  head,  the  throat  of 
the  other  was  partly  torn  away.  It  was  awful  to  feel 
the  conviction  that  unquenched  hatred  had  embittered 
the  last  moments  of  each.  They  seemed  mere  youths, 
and  I  thought  sadly  of  the  mothers,  whose  hearts  would 
throb  with  equal  anguish  in  a  Northern  and  a  Southern 
home.  In  a  corner  of  the  field,  supported  by  a  pile  of 
broken  fence-rails,  a  soldier  sat  apparently  beckoning  to 
us.  On  approaching  him  we  discovered  that  he  was 
quite  dead,  although  he  sat  upright,  with  open  eyes  and 
extended  arm. 

Several  badly  wounded  men  had  been  laid  under  the 
shade  of  some  bushes  a  little  farther  on  ;  our  mission 
lay  here.  The  portion  of  the  field  we  crossed  to  reach 
this  spot  was  in  many  places  slippery  with  blood.  The 
edge  of  my  dress  was  red,  my  feet  were  wet  with  it.  As 
we  drew  near  the  suffering  men,  piteous  glances  met  our 
own.  "Water!  water!"  was  the  cry. 

Dr.  McAllister  had  previously  discovered  in  one  of 
these  the  son  of  an  old  friend,  and  although  he  was  ap 
parently  wounded  unto  death,  he  hoped,  when  the  am 
bulances  returned  with  the  stretchers  sent  for,  to  move 
him  into  town  to  the  hospital.  He  now  proceeded  with 
the  aid  of  the  instruments,  bandages,  lint,  etc.,  I  had 
brought  to  prepare  him  for  removal.  Meantime,  taking 
from  my  pocket  a  small  feeding-cup,  which  I  always 


154  MEMORIES. 

carried  for  use  in  the  wards,  I  mixed  some  brandy  and 
water,  and,  kneeling  by  one  of  tbe  poor  fellows  who 
seemed  worse  than  the  others,  tried  to  raise  his  head. 
But  he  was  already  dying.  As  soon  as  he  was  moved 
the  blood  ran  in  a  little  stream  from  his  mouth.  Wip 
ing  it  off,  I  put  the  cup  to  his  lips,  but  he  could  not 
swallow,  and  reluctantly  I  left  him  to  die.  He  wore 
the  blue  uniform  and  stripes  of  a  Federal  sergeant  of 
cavalry,  and  had  a  German  face.  The  next  seemed 
anxious  for  water,  and  drank  eagerly.  This  one,  a  man 
of  middle  age,  was  later  transferred  to  our  wards,  but 
died  from  blood-poisoning.  He  was  badly  wounded  in 
the  side.  A  third  could  only  talk  with  his  large,  sad 
eyes,  but  made  me  clearly  understand  his  desire  for 
water.  As  I  passed  my  arm  under  his  head  the  red 
blood  saturated  my  sleeve  and  spread  in  a  moment  over 
a  part  of  my  dress.  So  we  went  on,  giving  water,  brandy? 
or  soup;  sometimes  successful  in  reviving  the  patient, 
sometimes  able  only  to  whisper  a  few  words  of  comfort 
to  the  dying.  There  were  many  more  left,  and  Dr. 
McAllister  never  for  a  moment  intermitted  his  efforts  to 
save  them.  Later  came  more  help,  surgeons,  and  at 
tendants  with  stretchers,  etc.  Soon  all  were  moved  who 
could  bear  it. 

Duty  now  recalled  me  to  my  patients  at  the  hos 
pital. 

My  hands  and  dress  and  feet  were  bloody,  and  I  felt 
sick  with  horror. 

As  I  was  recrossing  the  battle-field  accompanied  by 
Dr.  Welford,  of  Virginia,  the  same  terrible  scenes  were 
presented  to  the  view.  The  ground  was  littered  with 
the  accoutrements  of  soldiers, — carbines,  pistols,  can 
teens,  haversacks,  etc.  Two  cannon  lay  overturned, 
near  one  of  which  lay  a  dead  Federal  soldier  still  grasp 
ing  the  rammer.  Beneath  the  still  struggling  horses  lay 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  155 

human  forms  just  as  they  had  fallen.  Probably  they  had 
been  dead  ere  they  reached  the  ground,  but  I  felt  a  shud 
dering  dread  lest  perhaps  some  lingering  spark  of  life  had 
been  crushed  out  by  the  rolling  animals. 

We  had  nearly  reached  the  road  when  our  attention 
was  arrested  by  stifled  cries  and  groans  proceeding  from 
a  little  log  cabin  which  had  been  nearly  demolished  dur 
ing  the  fight.  Entering,  we  found  it  empty,  but  still  the 
piteous  cries  continued.  Soon  the  doctor  discovered  a 
pair  of  human  legs  hanging  down  the  chimney,  but  with 
all  his  pulling  could  not  dislodge  the  man,  who  was  fast 
wedged  and  only  cried  out  the  louder. 

"  Stop  your  infernal  noise,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  try 
to  help  yourself  while  I  pull."  By  this  time  others  had 
entered  the  cabin,  and  their  united  effort  at  length  suc 
ceeded  in  dislodging  from  the  chimney, — not  a  negro,  but 
a  white  man,  whose  blue  eyes,  glassy  with  terror,  shone 
through  the  soot  which  had  begrimed  his  face.  He  had 
climbed  up  the  chimney  to  escape  the  storm  of  shot, 
and  had  so  wedged  himself  in  that  to  release  himself 
unaided  was  impossible.  Irrepressible  laughter  greeted 
his  appearance,  and  I — I  am  bitterly  ashamed  to  say — fell 
into  a  fit  of  most  violent  hysterical  laughter  and  weep 
ing.  Dr.  Welford  hurried  me  into  the  buggy,  which 
was  near  at  hand,  and  drove  rapidly  to  town,  refusing 
to  stop  at  the  hospital,  landing  me  at  my  room,  where 
some  ladies  who  came  from  I  know  not  where  kindly 
helped  me  to  bed.  Under  the  influence  of  a  sedative  I 
soon  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  awakening  at  daylight  to  find 
my  own  servant  (who  had  returned  with  other  negroes 
during  the  night)  standing  at  my  bedside.  The  surgeons 
had  sent  a  little  of  the  precious  real  coffee,  of  which  there 
was  only  one  sack  left.  Upon  awakening,  I  was  to  be  at 
once  served  with  a  cup.  A  warm  bath  followed.  By 
six  o'clock  I  was  once  more  at  the  hospital,  ready  for 


156  JMEMORIES. 

duty,  after  two  days  and  nights,  during  which,  it  seemed 
to  me,  I  had  lived  for  years. 

Even  at  this  early  hour,  Buckner  hospital  presented  a 
scene  of  great  activity.  Some  of  the  surgeons  had  re 
mained  all  night  on  duty,  and  were  still  busy;  while 
others,  having  snatched  a  few  hours  of  sleep,  were  now 
preparing  for  their  trying  work. 

In  almost  every  ward  lay  a  few  wounded  Federals, 
but,  all  the  spare  beds  having  been  filled,  a  long,  low, 
brick  building,  on  the  corner  opposite  the  drug-store, 
once  used  as  a  cotton-pickery,  was  fitted  up  as  comfort 
ably  as  the  limited  hospital-supplies  at  our  command 
would  allow  for  the  Federals  exclusively,  and  they  were 
permitted  to  have  the  attendance  of  their  own  surgeons, 
although  ours  always  responded  readily,  if  needed. 

These  Federal  surgeons  appeared  to  me  to  be  very 
indifferent  to  the  comfort  of  their  patients,  and  to  avoid 
all  unnecessary  trouble.  They  were  tardy  in  beginning 
their  work  the  morning  after  the  battle,  and,  when 
they  were  ready,  coolly  sent  in  requisitions  for  chloro 
form,  which,  having  been  (contrary  to  the  dictates  of 
humanity  and  to  the  customs  of  civilized  nations)  long 
since  declared  by  their  government  "contraband  of 
war,"  was  almost  unattainable,  and  used  by  our  Con 
federate  surgeons  only  in  extreme  cases.  In  all  minor, 
and  in  some  severe,  operations  the  surgeons  relied  upon 
the  manly  fortitude  of  the  patients,  and,  G-od  bless  our 
brave  boys,  they  bore  this  cruel  test  with  a  courage  fully 
as  worthy  to  be  recorded  as  the  most  brilliant  action  on 
the  battle-field. 

On  the  morning  in  question,  as  I  made  my  early 
rounds,  there  met  me  everywhere  ghastly  reminders 
of  the  battle, — men  shot  and  disfigured  in  every  con 
ceivable  manner.  Many,  fresh  from  the  hands  of  the 
surgeons,  exhausted  by  suffering,  looked  as  if  already 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  157 

Death  had  claimed  them  for  his  own.  Attendants  were 
constantly  bearing  into  different  wards  fresh  victims 
from  the  operating-rooms,  where  the  bloody  work 
would  still  go  on  for  hours.  These  must  have  imme 
diate  attention, — must  be  closely  watched  and  strongly 
nourished.  This  was  my  blessed  privilege ;  and,  thanks 
to  the  humane  and  excellent  policy  adopted  by  General 
Johnston,  and  continued  by  General  Hood, — both  of 
whom  looked  well  to  the  ways  of  quartermasters  and 
commissaries, — the  means  to  provide  for  the  sick  and 
wounded  were  always  at  hand, — at  least,  up  to  the  time 
of  which  I  write. 

Some  of  my  favorite  patients,  whom,  previous  to  this 
battle,  I  had  nursed  ^into  convalescence,  were  now 
thrown  back  upon  beds  of  pain.  In  one  corner  I  found 
a  boy  whom  I  had  nursed  and  fed  through  days  and 
nights  of  suffering  from  typhoid  fever.  His  name  was 

Willie  Hutson,  and  he  belonged  to  the Mississippi 

Regiment.  Two  days  ago  he  had  been  as  bright  as  a 
lark,  and  pleading  to  be  sent  to  the  front.  Now  he 
lay,  shot  through  the  breast,  so  near  death  that  he  did 
not  know  me.  As  I  bent  over  him  with  tearful  eyes,  a 
hand  placed  upon  my  arm  caused  me  to  turn.  There 
stood  Dr.  Gore,  his  kind  face  full  of  sympathy,  but 
greatly  troubled,  at  his  side  a  Federal  surgeon  in  full 
uniform.  Dr.  Gore  said,  "  This  is  one  of  my  old  chums, 

and "     But  I  cried  out,   "Oh,  doctor!  I  cannot, — 

look"  (indicating  with  my  hand  first  Willie,  then  the 
entire  ward)  I  Passing  swiftly  out,  I  fled  to  my  office 
and  locked  myself  in,  shedding  hot  tears  of  indignation. 
The  dreadful  work  of  the  invaders  had  been  before  my 
eyes  all  the  morning.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  nothing 
to  do  with  them,  and  did  not  wish  to  see  one  of  them 
again.  They  had  not  only  murdered  my  poor  boy 
Willie,  but  dozens  of  dearer  friends.  They  were  even 

14 


158  MEMORIES. 

now  running  riot  in  the  home  I  loved.  They  were  in 
vaders  I 

I  could  not  meet  them, — could  not  nurse  them. 

It  is  painful  thus  to  reveal  the  thoughts  of  my  wicked, 
unchristian  heart;  but  thus  I  reasoned  and  felt  just 
then. 

After  a  while  a  note  from  Dr.  Gore  was  handed  me. 
He  said  (in  substance),  "I  know  how  bitterly  you  feel, 
but  pray  for  strength  to  cast  out  evil  spirits  from  your 
heart.  Forget  that  the  suffering  men,  thrown  upon 
our  kindness  and  forbearance,  are  Yankees.  Eemember 
only  that  they  are  G-od's  creatures  and  helpless  prisoners. 
They  need  you.  Think  the  matter  over,  and  do  not 
disappoint  me.  G-ore." 

I  do  not  believe  that  ever  before  or  since  have  I  fought 
so  hard  a  battle.  God  helping  me,  I  decided  to  do  right. 
The  short,  sharp  contest  ended — I  acted  at  once. 

On  my  way  to  the  Federal  wards,  I  met  more  than 
one  hospital-attendant  carrying  off  a  bloody  leg  or  arm 
to  bury  it.  I  felt  then,  and  saw  no  reason  to  alter  my 
opinion  afterwards,  that  some  of  their  surgeons  were  far 
rougher  and  less  merciful  than  ours ;  and  I  do  not  be 
lieve  they  ever  gave  the  poor,  shattered  fellows  the 
benefit  of  a  doubt.  It  was  easier  to  amputate  than  to 
attend  a  tedious,  troublesome  recovery.  So,  off  went 
legs  and  arms  by  the  wholesale. 

I  had  not  been  five  minutes  in  the  low,  brick  ward, 
where  lay  the  most  dangerously  wounded  Federals, 
when  all  animosity  vanished  and  my  woman's  heart 
melted  within  me. 

These  were  strangers  and  unwelcome,  but  far  from 
home  and  friends,  suffering,  dying.  The  surgeon  said 
to  me,  "  Madam,  one-half  the  attention  you  give  to  your 
own  men  will  save  life  here." 

The  patients  were  all  badly,  many  fatally,  wounded. 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  159 

They  were  silent,  repellent,  and  evidently  expectant  of 
insult  and  abuse,  but  after  a  while  received  food  and 
drink  from  my  hands  pleasantly,  and  I  tried  to  be  faith 
ful  in  my  ministrations. 

I  believe  that  most  of  the  soldiers  in  this  ward  were 
from  Iowa  and  Indiana. 

One  I  remember  particularly,  a  captain  of  cavalry, 
who  was  shot  through  the  throat  and  had  to  receive 
nourishment  by  means  of  a  rubber  tube  inserted  for  the 
purpose.  A  young  man  in  a  blue  and  yellow  uniform — 
an  aide  or  orderly — remained  at  his  side  day  and  night 
until  he  died.  His  eyes  spoke  to  me  eloquently  of  his 
gratitude,  and  once  he  wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper, 
"  God  bless  you,"  and  handed  it  to  me.  He  lived  about 
five  days. 

The  mortality  was  very  considerable  in  this  ward.  I 
grew  to  feel  a  deep  interest  in  the  poor  fellows,  and 
treasured  last  words  or  little  mementoes  as  faithfully 
for  their  distant  loved  ones  as  I  had  always  done  for 
Confederates. 

Among  the  personal  belongings  taken  from  me  by 
raiders  at  Macon,  Georgia,  was  a  large  chest,  full  of 
articles  of  this  kind,  which  I  intended  to  return  to  the 
friends  of  the  owners  whenever  the  opportunity  offered. 

In  another  ward  were  several  renegade  Kentuckians, 
who  constantly  excited  my  ire  by  noting  and  ridiculing 
deficiencies,  calling  my  own  dear  boys  "  Old  Jeff's  raga 
muffins,"  etc.  One  day  Dr.  Gore  happened  to  be  visit 
ing  this  ward  when  these  men  began  their  usual  teasing. 
Something  caused  me  to  eulogize  Dr.  Gore  and  all  the 
Kentuckians  who  had  sacrificed  so  much  for  "  The 
Cause."  One  of  these  fellows  then  said,  "  Well,  I'm  a 
Kentuckian  too,  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  me?" 
I  replied,  "  I  think  you  hold  about  the  same  relation  to 
the  true  sons  of  Kentucky  that  Judas  Iscariot  bore  to 


160  MEMORIES. 

the  beloved  disciple  who  lay  upon  the  bosom  of  our 
Saviour."  Then  walked  out  of  the  ward. 

It  was  rather  a  spiteful  repartee,  I  must  confess,  but 
was  provoked  by  many  ill-natured  remarks  previously 
made  by  this  renegade,  and  had  the  good  effect  of  put 
ting  an  end  to  them. 

We  were  comparatively  safe  once  more, — for  how  long 
no  one  knew.  I  now  became  very  anxious  about  the 
men  in  the  trenches  at  Atlanta  who  were  lying  day  after 
day,  always  under  fire.  Suffering  from  insufficient  food, 
exposed  to  the  scorching  sun  or  equally  pitiless  rain, 
sometimes  actually  knee-deep  in  water  for  days.  The 
bombardment  was  heavy  and  incessant,  ceasing  only  for 
a  while  at  sunset,  when  carts  were  hastily  loaded  with 
musty  meat  and  poor  corn-bread,  driven  out  to  the 
trenches,  and  the  rations  dumped  there.  Many  of  my 
friends  were  lying  in  these  trenches,  among  them  my 
husband.  In  addition  to  other  ills,  the  defenders  of 
Atlanta  were  in  instant  danger  of  death  from  shot  or 
shell.  I  could  not  bear  it.  The  desire  to  see  my  husband 
once  more,  and  to  carry  some  relief  in  the  shape  of  pro 
visions  to  himself  and  his  comrades  could  not  be  quelled. 
Many  things  stood  in  the  way  of  its  accomplishment,  for, 
upon  giving  a  hint  of  my  project  to  my  friends  at  New- 
nan,  a  storm  of  protest  broke  upon  my  devoted  head. 
Not  one  bade  me  God-speed,  everybody  declared  I  was 
crazy.  "A  woman  to  go  to  Atlanta  under  such  circum 
stances  ;  how  utterly  absurd,  how  mad."  So  I  was  obliged 
to  resort  to  deception  and  subterfuge.  My  first  step  was 
to  request  leave  of  absence,  that  I  might  forage  for  pro 
visions  to  be  sent  to  the  front  by  the  first  opportunity. 

Dr.  McAllister  very  kindly  accorded  me  his  per 
mission,  placing  at  my  disposal  an  ambulance  and  a 
driver,  advising  me,  however,  not  to  follow  the  main 
road  or  the  beaten  track  which  had  already  been  drained 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  161 

by  foragers,  but  to  go  deep  into  tbo  piny  woods.  Said 
he,  "  Only  one  of  our  foragers  bas  ever  been  througb 
that  region,  and  his  reports  were  not  very  encouraging. 
The  people  want  to  keep  all  they  have  got  for  home- 
consumption,  and  greatly  distrust  '  hospital  people,'  but 
if  success  is  possible,  you  will  succeed."  In  anticipa 
tion,  this  ride  into  deep,  odorous  pine  woods  seemed  de 
lightful.  When  the  ambulance  with  its  "captured" 
mule  drove  up  before  my  door,  I  gayly  climbed  into  it, 
and,  waving  merry  adieux  to  half-disapproving  friends 
(among  them  Dr.  Hughes,  with  his  distressed  face,  and 
Diogenes,  who  looked  daggers  at  me),  set  oif  in  high 
glee.  The  ride  along  the  pleasant  road  was  lovely ; 
early  birds  sung  sweetly ;  the  dew,  yet  undisturbed, 
glistened  everywhere,  the  morning  breeze  blew  freshly 
in  my  face.  As  the  sun  began  to  assert  his  power,  1 
became  eager  to  penetrate  into  the  shady  woods,  and 
at  last,  spying  a  grand  aisle  in  "  Nature's  temple,"  bade 
the  driver  enter  it.  For  a  while  the  result  was  most 
enjoyable.  The  spicy  aroma  of  the  pines,  the  brilliant 
vines  climbing  everywhere,  the  multitude  of  woodland 
blossoms  blooming  in  such  quantities  and  variety  as  I 
had  never  imagined,  charmed  my  senses,  and  elevated 
my  spirit.  Among  these  peaceful  shades  one  might 
almost  forget  the  horror  and  carnage  which  desolated 
the  land.  The  driver  was  versed  in  wood-craft,  and 
called  my  attention  to  many  beauties  which  would  have 
otherwise  escaped  me.  But  soon  his  whole  attention 
was  required  to  guide  the  restive  mule  through  a  laby 
rinth  of  stumps  and  ruts  and  horrible  muddy  holes, 
which  he  called  "  hog  wallows ;"  my  own_endeavors  were 
addressed  to  "  holding  on,"  and  devising  means  to  ease 
the  horrible  joltings  which  racked  me  from  head  to  foot. 
After  riding  about  two  miles  we  came  to  a  small  clear 
ing,  and  were  informed  that  the  road  for  ten  miles  was 
I  14* 


162  MEMORIES. 

"  tolerbal  clar"  and  pretty  thickly  settled.  So  after  par 
taking  of  an  early  country  dinner,  also  obtaining  a  small 
amount  of  eggs,  chickens,  etc.,  at  exorbitant  prices,  we 
resumed  our  ride.  That  expedition  will  never  be  for 
gotten  by  me.  At  its  close,  I  felt  that  my  powers  of 
diplomacy  were  quite  equal  to  any  emergency.  Oh,  the 
sullen,  sour-looking  women  that  I  sweetly  smiled  upon, 
and  flattered  into  good  humor,  praising  their  homes,  the 
cloth  upon  the  loom,  the  truck-patch  (often  a  mass  of 
weeds),  the  tow-headed  babies  (whom  I  caressed  and 
admired),  never  hinting  at  my  object  until  the  inno 
cent  victims  offered  of  their  own  accord  to  "show  me 
round."  At  the  spring-house  I  praised  the  new  country 
butter,  which  "  looked  so  very  good  that  I  must  have 
a  pound  or  two,"  and  then  skilfully  leading  the  conver 
sation  to  the  subject  of  chickens  and  eggs,  carelessly 
displaying  a  few  crisp  Confederate  bills,  I  at  least  be 
came  the  happy  possessor  of  a  few  dozens  of  eggs  and 
a  chicken  or  two,  at  a  price  which  only  their  destination 
reconciled  me  to. 

At  one  house,  approached  by  a  road  so  tortuous 
and  full  of  stumps  that  we  were  some  time  before 
reaching  it,  I  distinctly  heard  a  dreadful  squawking 
among  the  fowls,  but  when  we  arrived  at  the  gate, 
not  one  was  to  be  seen,  and  the  mistress  declared  she 
hadn't  a  "  one :  hadn't  saw  a  chicken  for  a  coon's  age." 
Pleading  excessive  fatigue,  I  begged  the  privilege  of 
resting  within  the  cabin.  An  apparently  unwilling 
assent  was  given.  In  I  walked,  and,  occupying  one  of 
those  splint  chairs  which  so  irresistibly  invite  one  to 
commit  a  breach  of  good  manners  by  "  tipping  back,"  I 
sat  in  the  door-way,  comfortably  swaying  backward 
and  forward.  Every  once  in  a  while  the  faces  of  chil 
dren,  either  black  or  white,  would  peer  at  me  round 
the  corner  of  the  house,  then  the  sound  of  scampering 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  163 

bare  feet  would  betray  their  sudden  flight.     Suddenly 

I  caught  sight  of  a  pair  of  bare,  black  feet  protruding 
from  under  the  bed.    Presently  an  unmistakable  squawk 
arose,  instantly  smothered,  but  followed  by  a  fluttering 
of  wings  and  a  chorus  of  squawks.     So  upset  was  the 
lady  of  the  house   that   she   involuntarily  called   out, 

II  You  Isruir     "Ma'am,"   came   in   a   frightened  voice 
from  under  the  bed,  then  in  whining  tones,  "  I  dun  try 
to  mek  'em  hush  up,  but  'pears  like  Mass  Debbel  be  on 
dey  side,  anyhow." 

Further  concealment  being  impossible,  I  said,  "  Come, 
you  have  the  chickens  ready  caught,  I'll  give  you  your 
own  price  for  them."  She  hesitated — and  was  lost,  for 
producing  from  my  pocket  a  small  package  of  snuff,  to 
which  temptation  she  at  once  succumbed,  I  obtained  in 
exchange  six  fine,  fat  chickens.  As  I  was  leaving  she 
said,  in  an  apologetic  tone,  "Well,  I  declah,  I  never 
knowed  you  was  going  to  light,  or  I  wouldn't  have 
done  sich  a  fool-trick." 

Stopping  at  every  house,  meeting  with  varied  success, 
we  at  last,  just  at  night,  arrived  at  a  farm-house  more 
orderly  than  any  we  had  passed,  where  I  was  glad  to 
discover  the  familiar  face  of  an  old  lady  who  had  some 
times  brought  buttermilk  and  eggs  to  the  sick.  At  once 
recognizing  me,  she  appeared  delighted,  and  insisted 
upon  my '"lighting"  and  having  my  team  put  up  until 
morning.  This  I  was  glad  to  do,  for  it  was  quite  out 
of  the  question  to  start  on  my  homeward  journey  that 
night.  Greatly  I  enjoyed  the  hospitality  so  ungrudg 
ingly  given,  the  appetizing  supper,  the  state  bed  in  the 
best  room,  with  its  "  sunrise"  quilt  of  patch-work.  Here 
was  a  Confederate  household.  The  son  was  a  soldier. 
His  wife  and  his  little  children  were  living  "with  ma" 
at  the  old  homestead.  The  evening  was  spent  in  talk 
ing  of  the  late  battle.  Here  these  women  were,  living 


164  MEMORIES. 

in  the  depths  of  the  woods,  consumed  with  anxiety, 
seldom  hearing  any  news,  yet  quietly  performing  the 
monotonous  round  of  duty  with  a  patience  which  would 
have  added  lustre  to  the  crown  of  a  saint. 

I  talked  until  (wonderful  to  relate)  my  tongue  was 
tired :  my  audience  being  the  old,  white-haired  father, 
the  mother,  the  wife,  and  the  eager  children,  who  were 
shy  at  first,  but  by  degrees  nestled  closer,  with  bright 
eyes  from  which  sleep  seemed  banished  forever. 

The  next  morning  when,  after  a  substantial  breakfast, 
I  was  once  more  ready  to  start,  every  member  of  the 
family  made  some  addition  to  my  stores,  notably,  a  few 
pounds  of  really  good  country  butter.  This  was  always 
highly  prized  by  the  soldiers.  As  a  general  thing,  when 
the  cows  were  fed  upon  cotton-seed  the  butter  was  white 
and  "  waxy,"  this  was  yellow  and  firm.  The  oldest  girl 
brought  me  a  pair  of  socks  she  had  herself  knitted  ;  one 
of  the  little  boys,  six  eggs  laid  by  his  own  "  dominiker," 
which  he  pointed  out  to  me  as  she  stalked  about  the 
yard  proud  of  her  mottled  feathers  and  rosy  comb. 

Even  the  baby  came  toddling  to  the  door  saying,  "Heah, 
heah,"  and  holding  out  a  snowy  little  kitten.  The  old 
gentleman,  mounting  his  horse,  offered  to  "  ride  a  piece" 
with  us.  Thanks  to  his  representations  to  the  neigh 
bors,  I  was  able  in  a  short  time  to  turn  my  face  home 
wards,  having  gathered  an  excellent  supply  of  chickens, 
eggs,  hams,  home-made  cordials,  peach  and  apple  brandy, 
and  a  few  pairs  of  socks.  The  old  farmer  also  showed  us  a 
way  by  which  we  could  avoid  a  repetition  of  the  tortures 
of  yesterday,  and  rode  beside  the  ambulance  to  the  main 
road.  I  remember  well  how  he  looked,  as  he  sat  upon 
his  old  white  mule,  waiting  to  see  the  last  of  us.  His 
hat,  pushed  back,  showed  a  few  locks  of  silvery  hair;  his 
coarse  clothes  and  heavy,  home-made  boots  were  worn 
in  a  manner  that  betrayed  the  Southern  gentleman. 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  165 

The  parting  smile,  still  lingering  upon  his  kindly  face, 
could  not  conceal  the  "furrows  of  care,"  which  had 
deepened  with  every  year  of  the  war.  But,  alas!  I 
cannot  recall  his  name,  although  I  then  thought  I  could 
never  forget  it. 

Upon  arriving  at  Newnan,  I  lost  no  time  in  preparing 
my  boxes  for  the  front.  Everything  was  cooked ;  even 
the  eggs  were  hard-boiled.  There  was  sufficient  to  fill 
two  large  boxes.  Having  packed  and  shipped  to  the 
depot  my  treasures,  I  prepared  for  the  final  step  with 
out  hesitation,  although  not  without  some  doubt  as  to 
success  in  eluding  the  vigilance  of  my  friends.  An 
nouncing  my  determination  to  see  the  boxes  off,  I — ac- 
cornpanied  by  my  maid — walked  down  to  the  depot  just 
before  train-time.  There  was  only  one  rickety  old  pas 
senger-car  attached  to  the  train.  This,  as  well  as  a  long 
tmccession  of  box-  and  cattle-cars,  were  crowded  with 
troops, — reinforcements  to  Atlanta.  Taking  advantage 
of  the  crowd,  I,  with  Tempe,  quietly  stepped  on  board, 
escaping  discovery  until  just  as  the  train  was  leav 
ing,  when  in  rushed  Dr.  McAllister,  who  peremptorily 
ordered  me  off;  but,  being  compelled  to  jump  off  himself, 
failed  to  arrest  my  departure.  I  was  in  high  spirits. 
On  the  train  were  many  soldiers  whom  I  had  nursed, 
and  who  cared  for  my  comfort  in  every  way  possible 
under  the  circumstances.  I  was  the  only  lady  on  the 
train,  so  they  were  thoughtful  enough  to  stow  them 
selves  in  the  crowded  boxes  behind,  that  I  might  not 
oe  embarrassed  by  a  large  number  in  the  passenger- 
car.  At  last,  as  we  approached  Atlanta,  I  heard  the 
continuous  and  terrific  noise  of  the  bombardment.  The 
•whistle  of  the  engine  was  a  signal  to  the  enemy,  who  at 
once  began  to  shell  the  depot.  I  did  not  realize  the 
danger  yet,  but  just  as  the  train  "  slowed  up"  heard  a 
shrieking  sound,  and  saw  the  soldiers  begin  to  dodge. 


166  MEMORIES. 

Before  I  could  think  twice,  an  awful  explosion  followed ; 
the  windows  were  all  shivered,  and  the  earth  seemed  to 
me  to  be  thrown  in  cart-loads  into  the  car.  Tempo 
screamed  loudly,  and  then  began  to  pray.  1  was  par 
alyzed  with  extreme  terror,  and  could  not  scream.  Be 
fore  I  could  speak,  another  shell  exploded  overhead, 
tearing  off  the  corner  of  a  brick  store,  causing  again 
a  deafening  racket.  As  we  glided  into  the  station,  I 
felt  safer;  but  soon  found  out  that  every  one  around 
me  had  business  to  attend  to,  and  that  I  must  rely 
upon  myself. 

The  shells  still  shrieked  and  exploded  j  the  more 
treacherous  and  dangerous  solid  shot  continually  de 
molished  objects  within  our  sight.  For  a  few  hours  I 
was  so  utterly  demoralized  that  my  only  thought  was 
how  to  escape.  It  seemed  to  me  impossible  that  any 
body  of  soldiers  could  voluntarily  expose  themselves 
to  such  horrible  danger.  I  thought  if  /  had  been  a 
soldier  I  must  have  deserted  from  my  first  battle-field. 
But  at  last  I  grew  calmer;  my  courage  returned,  and, 
urged  by  the  necessity  of  finding  shelter,  I  ventured 
out.  Not  a  place  could  I  find.  The  houses  were  closed 
and  deserted,  in  many  cases  partly  demolished  by  shot 
or  shell,  or,  having  taken  fire,  charred,  smoking,  and 
burnt  to  the  ground. 

All  day  frightened  women  and  children  cowered  and 
trembled  and  hungered  and  thirsted  in  their  under 
ground  places  of  refuge  while  the  earth  above  them 
shook  with  constant  explosions.  After  a  while  I  grew 
quite  bold,  and  decided  to  stow  myself  and  my  boxes 
in  the  lower  part  of  a  house  not  far  from  the  depot. 
The  upper  story  had  been  torn  off  by  shells.  I  could 
look  through  large  holes  in  the  ceiling  up  to  the  blue 
sky.  The  next  move  was  to  find  means  of  notifying. my 
husband  and  his  friends  of  my  arrival.  I  crept  along 


NEW  NAN,  GEORGIA.  167 

the  streets  back  to  the  depot,  Tempo  creeping  by  my 
side,  holding  fast  to  my  dress.  Then  I  found  an  officer 
just  going  out  to  the  trenches,  and  sent  by  him  a  pen 
cilled  note  to  Lieutenant  Cluverius,  thinking  an  officer 
would  be  likely  to  receive  a  communication,  when  a 
private  might  not.  Soon  after  sunset,  ray  husband* 
joined  me,  and  soon  after  many  friends.  They  were  all 
ragged,  mud-stained,  and  altogether  unlovely,  but  seemed 
to  me  most  desirable  and  welcome  visitors. 

One  of  my  boxes  being  opened,  I  proceeded  to  do  the 
honors.  My  guests  having  eaten  very  heartily,  filled 
their  haversacks,  and,  putting  "  a  sup"  in  their  canteens, 
returned  to  camp  to  send  out  a  fresh  squad.  The  next 
that  came  brought  in  extra  haversacks  and  canteens 
"  for  some  of  the  boys  who  couldn't  get  off,"  and  these 
also  were  provided  for. 

With  the  last  squad  my  husband  was  compelled  to  go 
back  to  camp,  as  just  then  military  rules  were  severe, 
and  very  strictly  enforced.  I  passed  the  night  in  an 
old,  broken  arm-chair,  Tempe  lying  at  my  feet,  and 
slept  so  soundly  that  I  heard  not  a  sound  of  shot  or 
shell.  Yery  early  next  morning,  however,  we  were 
awakened  by  a  terrible  explosion  near  us,  and  directly 
afterwards  heard  that  within  a  hundred  yards  of  our 
place  of  refuge  a  shell  had  exploded,  tearing  away  the 
upper  part  of  a  house,  killing  a  man  and  his  three 
children,  who  were  sleeping  in  one  of  the  rooms.  This 
made^me  very  uneasy,  and  increased  Tempe's  terror  to 
such  an  extent  that  she  became  almost  unmanageable. 
During  the  next  day  I  actually  became  accustomed  to 
the  noise  and  danger,  and  "  with  a  heart  for  any  fate" 
passed  the  day.  At  night  my  levee  was  larger  than 
before ;  among  them  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
and  supplying  some  Alabama,  South  Carolina,  and 
Tennessee  soldiers.  'That  night  the  bombardment  was 


168  MEMORIES. 

terrific.     Anxiety  for  my   husband,   combined   with*  a 
shuddering  terror,  made  sleep  impossible. 

The  next  morning,  my  husband  having  obtained  a 
few  hours'  leave  of  absence,  joined  me  in  my  shat 
tered  retreat.  T%he  day  was  darkened  by  the  agony 
of  parting.  It  seemed  to  me  impossible  to  leave  him 
under  such  circumstances,  and  really  required  more 
courage  than  to  face  the  shot  and  shell.  But  I  could 
easily  see  that  anxiety  for  me  interfered  with  his  duty 
as  a  soldier,  so — we  must  part.  On  the  same  evening 
I  returned  to  Newnan,  where  my  friends  were  so  over 
joyed  at  my  safe  return  that  they  forbore  to  upbraid. 
Soon  afterward  the  battle  of  Jonesboro'  again  filled  our 
wards  with  shattered  wrecks.  As  I  have  already  stated, 
my  husband  then  came  for  the  first  time  to  claim  my 
care.  Before  he  was  quite  able  to  return  to  duty,  the 
post  was  ordered  to  Fort  Valley,  Georgia,  a  pleasant 
and  very  hospitable  town,  where  new  and  excellent 
hospital  buildings  had  been  erected.  From  here  Mr. 
Beers  returned  to  his  command.  The  day  of  his  de 
parture  was  marked  by  hours  of  intense  anguish  which 
I  yet  shudder  to  recall.  The  train  which  stopped  at 
the-  hospital  camp  to  take  up  men  returning  to  'the 
front  was  crowded  with  soldiers, — reinforcements.  I 
had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  fit  of  bitter  weeping 
which  followed  the  parting,  when,  noticing  an  un 
usual  commotion  outside,  I  went  to  the  door  to  dis 
cover  the  cause.  Men  were  running  up  the  railroad 
track  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  train  which  had 
just  left.  A  crowd  had  collected  near  the  surgeon's 
office,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  an  almost  breathless 
messenger.  His  tidings  seemed  to  have  the  effect  of 
sending  off  succeeding  groups  of  men  in  the  direction 
taken  by  those  I  had  first  seen  running  up  the  road. 
Among  them  I  discovered  several  surgeons.  Something 


NEWNAN,  GEORGIA.  1.69 

was  wrong.  Wild  with  apprehension,  I  sped  over  to 
the  office,  and  there  learned  that  the  train  of  cars  loaded 
and  crowded  with  soldiers  had  been  thrown  down  a 
steep  embankment,  about  three  miles  up  the  road,  and 
that  many  lives  were  lost.  "Waiting  for  nothing,  I  ran 
bareheaded  and  frantic  up  the  track,  for  more  than  a 
mile  never  stopping,  then  hearing  the  slow  approach 
of  an  engine,  sunk  down  by  the  side  of  the  track  to 
await  its  coming.  Soon  the  engine  appeared,  drawing 
very  slowly  a  few  platform-  and  baggage-cars  loaded 
with  groaning,  shrieking  men,  carrying,  also,  many 
silent  forms  which  would  never  again  feel  pain  or  sor 
row.  The  surgeons  upon  the  first  car  upon  descrying 
me  crouching  by  the  roadside,  halted  the  train  and 
lifted  me  upon  the  last  car,  where,  among  the  "  slightly 
hurt,"  I  found  my  husband,  terribly  bruised  and  shaken, 
but  in  no  danger.  Arrived  at  camp,  where  tents  had 
been  hastily  pitched,  the  wounded  and  dying  were  laid 
out  side  by  side  in  some  of  the  largest,  while  others  re 
ceived  the  dead.  The  sights  and  sounds  were  awful  in 
the  extreme.  At  first  I  could  not  muster  courage 
(shaken  as  I  had  been)  to  go  among  them.  But  it  was 
necessary  for  purposes  of  identification,  so  I  examined 
every  one,  dying  and  dead,  feeling  that  certainty,  how 
ever  dreadful,  might  be  better  borne  by  loving  hearts 
than  prolonged  suspense. 

Among  these  dreadful  scenes  came  a  minister  of  God, 
whose  youthful  face,  pale  and  horror-stricken,  yet  all 
alight  with  heavenly  pity  and  love,  I  can  never  forget. 
Tenderly  he  bent  above  these  dying  men,  his  trembling 
lips  touched  by  divine  inspiration,  whispering  words 
precious  to  parting  souls.  Unshrinkingly  he  performed 
his  mission  to  those  who  yet  lived,  then,  passing  among 
the  dead,  lovingly  composed  and  prepared  for  decent 
burial  the  mutilated  bodies.  One  burial-service  served 

H  15 


170  MEMORIES. 

for  all ;  this  was  as  tenderly  rendered  as  if  each  unfor 
tunate  had  been  dear  to  himself. 

This  young  clergyman  was  Rev.  Green,  of 

Columbia,  S.  C.,  a  near  relative  of  the  eminent  divine 
and  inspired  patriot,  Dr.  B.  M.  Palmer,  now  of  New 
Orleans. 

Few  patients  were  sent  to  Fort  Yalley.  Upon  recov 
ering  from  the  effects  of  the  railroad  accident,  my  hus 
band  again  left  for  his  command.  Growing  dissatisfied, 
I  applied  to  Dr.  Stout  for  a  position  nearer  the  front. 
Not  receiving  a  satisfactory  reply,  went  to  Macon, 
where  for  a  few  weeks  I  remained  at  one  of  the  hos 
pitals,  but  still  felt  that  I  was  losing  time,  and  doing 
very  little  good.  In  November  I  was  offered  a  position 
in  a  tent-hospital  near  the  front,  which  I  eagerly  ac 
cepted,  little  dreaming  (God  help  me !)  of  the  hardship 
and  disappointment  which  awaited  me. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

OMEGA. 

THE  detention  of  the  railroad-train  belated  us,  and 
when  we  (I  and  my  servant)  were  left  at  a  small  station 
in  Mississippi,  night  had  fallen.  The  light  from  a  little 
fire  of  pine  knots,  built  on  the  ground  outside,  while 
illuminating  the  rough  depot  and  platform,  left  the 
country  beyond  in  deeper  darkness.  It  was  bitterly 
cold.  The  driver  of  the  ambulance  informed  me,  we 
had  "quite  a  piece  to  ride  yet."  A  moment  later, 
Dr.  Beatty  rode  up  on  horseback,  welcomed  me  pleas 
antly,  waiting  to  see  me  safely  stowed  away  in  the  am 
bulance.  The  ride  to  camp  was  dismal.  I  continued 
to  shiver  with  cold;  my  heart  grew  heavy  as  lead, 
and  yearned  sadly  for  a  sight  of  the  pleasant  faces, 
the  sound  of  the  kindly  voices,  to  which  I  had  been  so 
long  accustomed.  At  last  a  turn  in  the  road  brought 
us  in  sight  of  the  numberless  fires  of  a  large  camp.  It 
was  a  bright  scene,  though  far  from  gay.  The  few  men 
who  crouched  by  the  fires  were  not  roistering,  rollick 
ing  soldiers,  but  pale  shadows,  holding  their  thin  hands 
over  the  blaze  which  scorched  their  faces,  while  their 
thinly-covered  backs  were  exposed  to  a  cold  so  intense 
that  it  congealed  the  sap  in  the  farthest  end  of  the  log 
on  which  they  sat.  Driving  in  among  these,  up  an 
"avenue"  bordered  on  either  side  by  rows  of  white 
tents,  the  ambulance  drew  up  at  last  before  the  door  of 
my  "  quarters," — a  rough  cabin  built  of  logs.  Through 
the  open  door  streamed  the  cheery  light  of  a  wood-fire, 
upon  which  pine  knots  had  been  freshly  thrown. 

171 


172  MEMORIES. 

A  bunk  at  one  side,  made  of  puncheons,  and  filled  with 
pine  straw,  over  which  comforts  and  army-blankets  had 
been  thrown,  hard  pillows  stuffed  with  straw,  having 
coarse,  unbleached  cases,  a  roughly-made  table  before 
the  fire,  a  lot  of  boxes  marked  "  Q.  M.,"  etc.,  to  serve  as 
seats,  and  you  have  my  cabin  in  its  entirety. 

Drawing  my  box  up  close  to  the  fire,  I  sat  down, 
Tempe,  in  the  mean  while,  stirring  the  coals  and  ar 
ranging  the  burning  ends  of  the  pine  in  true  country 
style. 

Presently  my  supper  was  brought  in, — corn-bread, 
corn  meal  coffee,  a  piece  of  musty  fried  salt  meat, 
heavy  brown  sugar,  and  no  milk.  I  was,  however, 
hungry,  and  ate  with  a  relish.  Tempe  went  off  to 
some  region  unknown  for  the  supper,  returning  un 
satisfied  and  highly  disgusted  with  the  "  hog-wittles" 
which  had  been  offered  to  her.  Soon  Dr.  Beatty  called, 

bringing  with  him  Mrs.  Dr. ,  a  cheery  little  body, 

who,  with  her  husband,  occupied  a  room  under  the 
same  roof  as  myself,  a  sort  of  hall  open  at  both  ends 
dividing  us. 

We  had  some  conversation  regarding  the  number  of 
sick  and  the  provisions  for  their  comfort.  On  the 
whole,  the  evening  passed  more  cheerfully  than  I  had 
expected.  My  sleep  that  night  was  dreamless.  I  did 
not  even  feel  the  cold,  although  Tempe  declared  she 
was  "  dun  froze  stiff." 

Yery  early  I  was  astir,  gazing  from  the  door  of  my 
cabin  at  my  new  sphere  of  labor. 

Snow  had  fallen  during  the  night,  and  still  came 
down  steadily.  The  path  was  hidden,  the  camp-fires 
appeared  as  through  a  mist.  A  confused,  steady  sound 
of  chopping  echoed  through  the  woods.  I  heard  mys 
terious  words,  dimly  saw  figures  moving  about  the  fires. 
Everything  looked  unpromising, — dismal.  Chilled  to 


OMEGA.  173 

the  heart,  I  turned  back  to  my  only  comfort,  the  splen 
did  fire  Tempe  had  built.  My  breakfast  was  exactly  as 
supper  had  been,  and  was  brought  by  the  cook,  a  de 
tailed  soldier,  who  looked  as  if  he  ought  to  have  been 
at  the  front.  He  apologized  for  the  scanty  rations, 
promising  some  beef  for  dinner. 

Soon  Dr.  Beatty,  accompanied  by  two  assistant-sur 
geons,  appeared  to  escort  me  to  the  tents.  I  went 
gladly,  for  I  was  anxious  to  begin  my  work.  What  I 
saw  during  that  hour  of  inspection  convinced  me,  not 
only  that  my  services  were  needed,  but  that  my  work 
must  be  begun  and  carried  on  under  almost  insur 
mountable  difficulties  and  disadvantages.  I  found  no 
comforts,  no  hospital  stores,  insufficient  nourishment,  a 
scarcity  of  blankets  and  comforts,  even  of  pillows.  Of 
the  small  number  of  the  latter  few  had  cases ;  all  were 
soiled.  The  sick  men  had  spit  over  them  and  the  bed 
clothes,  which  could  not  be  changed  because  there  were 
no  more.  As  I  have  said,  there  were  no  comforts.  The 
patients  looked  as  if  they  did  not  expect  any,  and 
seemed  sullen  and  discontented.  The  tents  were  not 
new,  nor  were  they  all  good.  They  seemed  to  me  with 
out  number.  Passing  in  and  out  among  them,  I  felt 
bewildered  and  doubtful  whether  I  should  ever  learn  to 
know  one  from  another,  or  to  find  my  patients.  Part 
of  the  camp  was  set  apart  for  convalescents.  Here 
were  dozens  of  Irishmen.  They  were  so  maimed  and 
shattered  that  every  one  should  have  been  entitled  to  a 
discharge,  but  the  poor  fellows  had  no  homes  to  go  to, 
and  were  quite  unable  to  provide  for  themselves.  There 
were  the  remnants  of  companies,  regiments,  and  bri 
gades,  many  of  them  Louisianians,  and  from  other 
States  outside  the  Confederate  lines.  Had  there  been 
any  fighting  to  do,  they  would  still  have  "taken  a 
hand,"  maimed  as  they  were.  The  monotony  of  hos- 

15* 


174  MEMORIES. 

pital  camp-life  made  them  restless ;  the  rules  they  found 
irksome,  and  constantly  evaded;  they  growled,  com 
plained,  were  always  "  in  hot  water,"  and  almost  un 
manageable. 

The  first  time  I  passed  among  them  they  eyed  me 
askance,  seeming,  I  feared,  to  resent  the  presence  of 
a  woman.  But  I  made  it  my  daily  custom  to  visit  their 
part  of  the  camp,  standing  by  their  camp-fires  to  listen 
to  their  "  yarns,"  or  to  relate  some  of  my  own  experi 
ences,  trying  to  make  their  hardships  seem  less,  listening 
to  their  complaints,  meaning  in  earnest  to  speak  to  Dr. 
Beatty  regarding  palpable  wrongs.  This  I  did  not  fail 
to  do,  and  whenever  the  doctor's  sense  of  justice  was 
aroused,  he  promptly  acted  on  the  right  side.  I  do  not 
wish  to  convey  to  my  readers  the  idea  that  there  were 
men  always  sullen  and  disagreeable.  Far  from  it,  they 
were  a  jolly  set  of  men  when  in  a  good  humor,  and,  like 
all  Irishmen,  full  of  wit  and  humor.  After  I  became 
known  to  them  their  gentle,  courteous  treatment  of  me 
never  varied.  They  were  very  fond  of  playing  cards, 
but  whenever  I  appeared  upon  one  of  the  avenues, 
every  card  would  disappear.  Not  one  ever  failed  to 
salute  me,  often  adding  a  "God  bless  you,  ma'am,  may 
the  heavens  be  your  bed,"  etc.  Disliking  to  interfere 
with  their  only  amusement,  I  let  them  know  that  I  did 
not  dislike  to  see  them  playing  cards.  At  this  they 
were  very  pleased,  saying,  "  Sure,  it's  no  harrum ;  it's 
not  gambling  we  are;  divil  a  cint  have  we  to  win  or 
lose."  One  day  I  stopped  to  look  on  a  moment  at  a  game 
of  euchre.  One  of  the  players  had  lost  an  arm  (close  to 
the  shoulder).  Said  he,  "  Sure,  ma'am,  it's  bating  the 
b'ys  intirely,  I  am."  I  did  not  understand,  so  he  ex 
plained,  with  a  comic  leer  at  the  others, — "  Sure,  haven't 
I  always  the  'lone hand'  on  thim  ?"  At  once  I  recalled  a 
similar  remark  made  by  an  Irish  soldier  lying  in  the 


OMEGA.  175 

hospital  at  Newnan,  who  had  just  lost  one  of  his  legs ; 
when  I  condoled  with  him,  he  looked  up  brightly,  and, 
pointing  at  his  remaining  foot,  explained,  "  Niver  mind, 
this  feller  will  go  it  alone  and  make  it" 

Among  the  surgeons  in  camp  was  one  who  had  highly 
offended  these  convalescents  by  retiring  to  his  cabin, 
pulling  the  latch-string  inside  and  remaining  deaf  to  all 
calls  and  appeals  from  outside.  Mutterings  of  discontent 
were  heard  for  a  while,  but  at  last  as  there  was  no  fur 
ther  mention  of  the  matter,  I  believed  it  was  ended. 

About  this  time  the  actions  of  the  convalescents  began 
to  appear  mysterious :  they  remained  iu  their  tents  or 
absented  themselves,  as  I  supposed,  upon  foraging  ex 
peditions.  Frequently,  I  found  them  working  upon  cow- 
horns,  making  ornaments  as  I  thought  (at  this  business 
Confederate  soldiers  were  very  expert).  One  day  I 
caught  sight  of  a  large  pile  of  horns  and  bones  just 
brought  in,  but  still  thought  nothing  of  it.  Shortly, 
however,  a  small  deputation  from  the  convalescent  camp 
appeared  at  the  door  of  my  cabin  just  as  I  was  eating 
my  dinner:  all  saluted;  the  spokesman  then  explained 
that  the  "  b'ys"  were  prepared  to  give  the  obnoxious 
surgeon  a  u  siranade"  that  same  night.  They  had  been 
working  for  weeks  to  produce  the  instruments  of  torture 
which  were  then  all  ready.  "  We  don't  mane  to  scare 
ye,  ma'am,  and  if  it'll  be  displazin*  to  ye,  sure  we'll  give 
it  up."  I  told  them  that  I  did  not  want  to  know  about 
it,  and  was  sorry  they  had  told  me,  but  I  would  not  be 
frightened  at  any  noise  I  might  hear  in  the  night.  "  All 
right,  ma'am,"  said  the  spokesman,  winking  at  the  others 
to  show  that  he  comprehended.  The  party  then  with 
drew.  About  midnight  such  a  startling  racket  suddenly 
broke  the  stillness  that  in  spite  of  my  previous  knowl 
edge,  I  was  frightened.  Horns  of  all  grades  of  sound, 
from  deep  and  hoarse  to  shrill,  tin  cups  and  pans  clashed 


176  MEMORIES. 

together  or  beaten  with  bones,  yells,  whistling,  and  in 
short  every  conceivable  and  inconceivable  noise. 

After  the  first  blast,  utter  stillness ;  the  startled  officers, 
meanwhile,  listening  to  discover  the  source  of  the  un 
earthly  noise,  then,  as  if  Bedlam  had  broken  loose,  the 
concert  began  once  more.  It  was  concentrated  around 
the  cabin  of  the  surgeon  so  disliked.  As  the  quarters 
of  the  officers  were  somewhat  removed  from  the  hospital 
proper,  and  very  near  my  own,  I  got  the  full  benefit  of 
the  noise.  I  cannot  now  say  why  the  racket  was  not 
put  a  stop  to.  Perhaps  because  the  serenaders  numbered 
over  one  hundred  and  the  surgeons  despaired  of  restoring 
order.  At  all  events,  during  the  whole  night  we  were 
allowed  to  sink  into  slumber,  to  be  aroused  again  and 
again  by  the  same  hideous  burst  of  sound.  I  only  re 
member  that  the  next  day  the  horns,  etc.,  were  collected 
and  carried  away  from  camp,  while  the  offenders  were 
refused  permission  to  leave  their  quarters  for  a  while. 

In  the  sick  camp  there  lay  over  two  hundred  sick  and 
wounded  men,  faithfully  attended  and  prescribed  for  by 
the  physicians,  but  lacking  every  comfort.  Dr.  Beatty 
was  worried  about  the  sick,  but  under  the  circumstances 
what  could  he  do?  Soon  after  occurred  the  terrible 
battle  of  Franklin,  when  our  tents  were  again  filled 
with  wounded  men.  These  men  were  unlike  any  I  have 
ever  nursed.  Their  shattered  forms  sufficiently  attested 
courage  and  devotion  to  duty,  but  the  enthusiasm  and 
pride  which  had  hitherto  seemed  to  me  so  grand  and 
noble  when  lighting  up  the  tortured  faces  of  wounded 
soldiers,  appearing  like  a  reflection  of  great  glory,  I  now 
missed.  It  seemed  as  if  they  were  yet  revengeful  and 
unsatisfied  ;  their  countenances  not  yet  relaxed  from  the 
tension  of  the  fierce  struggle,  their  eyes  yet  gleaming 
with  the  fires  of  battle.  The  tales  they  told  made  me 
shudder :  Of  men,  maddened  by  the  horrible  butchery 


OMEGA.  177 

going  on  around  them,  mounting  the  horrible  barricade 
(trampling  out  in  many  instances  the  little  sparks  of  life 
which  might  have  been  rekindled),  only  to  add  their  own 
bodies  to  the  horrid  pile,  and  to  be  trampled  in  their 
turn  by  comrades  who  sought  to  avenge  them ;  of 
soldiers  on  both  sides,  grappling  hand  to  hand,  tearing 
open  each  other's  wound,  drenched  with  each  other's 
blood,  dying  locked  in  a  fierce  embrace.  It  turns  me 
sick  even  now  when  I  remember  the  terrible  things  I 
then  heard,  the  awful  wounds  I  then  saw.  During  the 
whole  period  of  my  service,  I  never  had  a  harder  task 
than  when  striving  to  pour  oil  upon  these  troubled 
waters,  to  soothe  and  reconcile  these  men  who  talked 
incessantly  of  "  sacrifice"  and  useless  butchery.  This 
was  particularly  the  case  with  General  Clebourne's  men, 
who  so  loved  their  gallant  leader  that,  at  his  death, 
revenge  had  almost  replaced  patriotism  in  their  hearts. 

I  do  not  consider  myself  competent,  nor  do  I  wish  to 
criticise  the  generals  who  led  our  armies  and  who,  since 
the  war,  have,  with  few  exceptions,  labored  assiduously 
to  throw  the  blame  of  failure  upon  each  other.  I  have 
read  their  books  with  feelings  of  intense  sorrow  and 
regret, — looking  for  a  reproduction  of  the  glories  of  the 
past, — finding  whole  pages  of  recrimination  and  full  of 
"  all  uncharitableness."  For  my  own  part,  I  retain  an 
unchanged,  unchangeable  respect  and  reverence  for  all 
alike,  believing  each  to  have  been  a  pure  and  honest  patriot, 
who,  try  as  he  might,  could  not  surmount  the  difficulties 
which  each  one  in  turn  encountered. 

A  brave,  vindictive  foe,  whose  superiority  in  numbers, 
in  arms,  and  equipment,  and,  more  than  all,  rations,  they 
could  maintain  indefinitely.  And  to  oppose  them,  an 
utterly  inadequate  force,  whose  bravery  and  unparal 
leled  endurance  held  out  to  the  end,  although  hunger 
gnawed  at  their  vitals,  disease  and  death  daily  decimated 


178  MEMORIES. 

their  ranks,  intense  anxiety  for  dear  ones  exposed  to 
dangers,  privations,  all  the  horrors  which  everywhere 
attended  the  presence  of  the  invaders,  torturing  them 
every  hour. 

While  yielding  to  none  in  my  appreciation  of  the 
gallant  General  Hood,  there  is  one  page  in  his  book 
which  always  arouses  my  indignation  and  which  I  can 
never  reconcile  with  what  7  know  of  the  history  of  the 
Army  of  Tennessee,  from  the  time  General  Hood  took 
command  to  the  surrender.  Truly,  they  were  far  from 
being  like  "  dumb  driven  cattle,"  for  every  man  was  "  a 
hero  in  the  strife."  It  seems  to  me  that  the  memory  of 
the  battle  of  Franklin  alone  should  have  returned  to 
General  Hood  to  "give  him  pause"  before  he  gave  to 
the  public  the  page  referred  to : 

(Extract) 

11  My  failure  on  the  20th  and  the  22d  to  bring  about  a 
general  pitched  battle  arose  from  the  unfortunate  policy 
pursued  from  Dalton  to  Atlanta,  and  which  had  wrought 
*  such'  demoralization  amid  rank  and  file  as  to  render 
the  men  unreliable  in  battle.  I  cannot  give  a  more 
forcible,  though  homely,  exemplification  of  the  morale 
of  the  troops  at  that  period  than  by  comparing  the  Army 
to  a  team  which  has  been  allowed  to  balk  at  every  hill, 
one  portion  will  make  strenuous  efforts  to  advance, 
whilst  the  other  will  refuse  to  move,  and  thus  paralyze 
the  exertions  of  the  first.  Moreover,  it  will  work  fault 
lessly  one  day  and  stall  the  next.  No  reliance  can  be 
placed  upon  it  at  any  stated  time.  Thus  it  was  with 
the  army  when  ordered  into  a  general  engagement,  one 
corps  strugged  nobly,  whilst  the  neighboring  corps  frus 
trated  its  efforts  by  simple  inactivity;  and  whilst  the 
entire  Army  might  fight  desperately  one  day,  it  would 
fail  in  action  the  following  day.  Stewart's  gallant  attack 


OMEOA.  179 

on  the  20th  was  neutralized  by  Hardee's  inertness  on  the 
right ;  and  the  failure  in  the  battle  of  the  22d  is  to  be 
attributed  also  to  the  effect  or*  the  c  timid  defensive'  policy 
of  this  officer,  who,  although  a  brave  and  gallant  soldier, 
neglected  to  obey  orders,  and  swung  away,  totally  in 
dependent  of  the  main  body  of  the  Army." 

Time  softens  and  alleviates  all  troubles,  and  this  was 
no  exception.  But  the  winter  was  a  very  gloomy  one : 
my  heart  was  constantly  oppressed  by  witnessing  suffer 
ing  I  could  not  relieve,  needs  which  could  not  be  met. 
The  efforts  of  the  foragers,  combined  with  my  own  pur 
chases  from  country  wagons  (although  Dr.  Beatty  was 
liberal  in  his  orders,  and  I  spent  every  cent  I  could  get), 
were  utterly  insufficient,  although  the  officers  of  this 
camp-hospital  were  self-denying,  and  all  luxuries  were 
reserved  for  the  sick.  I  hit  upon  an  expedient  to  vary 
the  rations  a  little,  which  found  favor  with  the  whole 
camp.  The  beef  was  simply  atrocious.  I  had  it  cut 
into  slices,  let  it  lie  in  salt  with  a  sprinkling  of  vinegar 
for  a  day,  then  hung  the  pieces  up  the  chimneys  until  it 
was  smoked.  I  first  tried  it  in  my  own  cabin,  found  it 
an  improvement,  and  so  had  a  quantity  prepared  for  the 
hungry  wounded.  And  so  these  dark  days  sped  on, 
bringing,  in  due  time, 

THE   LAST   CONFEDERATE   CHRISTMAS. 

I  will  here  subjoin  an  article  originally  written  for  the 
Southern  Bivouac,  which  will  give  my  readers  an  idea 
of  how  the  Christmas-tide  was  spent. 

For  some  time  previous  I  had  been  revolving  in  my 
mind  various  plans  for  the  celebration  of  Christmas 
by  making  some  addition  to  the  diet  of  the  sick  and 
wounded  soldiers  then  under  my  charge.  But,  plan  as 
I  would,  the  stubborn  facts  in  the  case  rose  up  to  con 
front  me,  and  I  failed  to  see  just  how  to  accomplish  my 


180  MEMORIES. 

wishes.  We  were  then  located  at  Lauderdale  Springs, 
Mississippi.  I,  with  my  servant,  Terape,  occupied  one 
room  of  a  small,  double  house,  built  of  rough-hewn  logs, 
and  raised  a  few  feet  from  the  ground ;  a  sort  of  hall, 
open  at  both  ends,  separated  my  room  from  one  on  the 

opposite  side  occupied  by  Dr.  and  his  wife.     All 

around,  as  far  as  one  could  see,  amid  the  white  snow 
and  with  lofty  pine-trees  towering  above  them,  ex 
tended  the  hospital-tents,  and  in  these  lay  the  sick,  the 
wounded,  the  dying.  Hospital-supplies  were  scarce, 
our  rations  of  the  plainest  articles,  which,  during  the 
first  years  of  the  war,  were  considered  absolute  neces 
saries,  had  become  priceless  luxuries.  Eggs,  butter, 
chickens  came  in  such  small  quantities  that  they  must 
be  reserved  for  the  very  sick.  The  cheerfulness,  self- 
denial,  and  fellow-feeling  shown  by  those  who  were 
even  partly  convalescent,  seemed  to  me  to  be  scarcely 
less  admirable  than  the  bravery  which  had  distin 
guished  them  on  the  battle-field.  But  this  is  a  digres 
sion  :  let  me  hasten  to  relate  how  I  was  helped  to  a 
decision  as  to  Christmas  "  goodies."  One  morning, 
going  early  to  visit  some  wounded  soldiers  who  had 
come  in  during  the  night,  I  found  in  one  tent  a  new 
comer,  lying  in  one  of  the  bunks,  his  head  and  face 
bandaged  and  bloody.  By  his  side  sat  his  comrade, — 
wounded  also,  but  less  severely, — trying  to  soften  for 
the  other  some  corn-bread,  which  he  was  soaking  and 
beating  with  a  stick  in  a  tin  cup  of  cold  water.  He 
explained  that  the  soldier  with  the  bandaged  head  had 
been  shot  in  the  mouth,  and  could  take  only  soft  food. 
I  said,  "  Don't  give  him  that.  I  will  bring  him  some 
mush  and  milk,  or  some  chicken  soup."  He  set  down 
the  cup,  looked  at  me  with  queer,  half-shut  eyes,  then 
remarked,  "  Yer  ga-assin'  now,  ain't  ye  ?" 

Having  finally  convinced  him  that  I  was  not,  I  re- 


OMEGA.  /  181 

tired  for  a  moment  to  send  the  nurse  for  some  food. 
When  it  came,  and  while  I  was  slowly  putting  spoon 
fuls  of  broth  into  the  poor,  shattered  mouth  of  his 
friend,  he  stood  looking  on  complacently,  though  with 
his  lip  quivering.  I  said  to  him,  "Now,  what  would 
you  like?"  After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  replied, 
"  Well,  lady,  I've  been  sort  of  hankerin'  after  a  sweet- 
potato  pone,  but  I  s'pose  ye  couldn't  noways  get  that?" 
"There,"  thought  I,  "that's  just  what  I  will  get  and 
give  them  all  for  Christmas  dinner." 

Hastening  to  interview  the  surgeon  in  charge,  I  easily 
obtained  permission  to  go  on  the  next  day  among  the 
farmers  to  collect  materials  for  my  feast.  An  ambu 
lance  was  placed  at  my  disposal. 

My  foraging  expedition  was  tolerably  successful,  and 
I  returned  next  evening  with  a  quantity  of  sweet  pota 
toes,  several  dozen  eggs,  and  some  country  butter.  Driv 
ing  directly  to  the  door  of  my  cabin,  I  had  my  treasures 
securely  placed  within ;  for,  although  holding  my  sol 
dier-friends  in  high  estimation,  I  agreed  with  the  driver 
of  the  ambulance, — "Them  'taturs  has  to  be  taken  in 
out  of  the  cold."  My  neighbor's  wife,  Mrs.  Dr. ,  en 
tered  heartily  into  my  plans  for  the  morrow,  promising 
her  assistance.  My  night-round  of  visits  to  the  sick 
having  been  completed,  I  was  soon  seated  by  my  own 
fireside,  watching  the  operation  of  making  and  baking  a 
corn  hoecake,  which,  with  some  smoked  beef  of  my  own 
preparation  and  a  cup  of  corn-coffee,  made  my  supper  on 
this  Christmas  eve.  It  was  so  bitterly  cold  that  I  did 
not  undress;  but,  wrapping  a  blanket  around  me,  lay 
down  on  my  bunk.  Tempo  also  rolled  herself  up,  and 
lay  down  before  the  fire.  In  order  to  explain  what  fol 
lowed,  I  must  here  say  that  the  boards  of  my  floor  were 
only  laid,  not  fastened,  as  nails  were  not  to  be  had.  I  was 
awakened  from  "  the  first  sweet  sleep  of  night"  by  an  un- 

16 


182  MEMORIES. 

earthly  yell  from  Tempo,  who  sprang  unceremoniously 
upon  my  bunk,  grasping  me  tightly,  and  crying,  "  O  Lord, 
Miss ,  yearthquate  dun  cum !"  Sitting  up,  I  was  hor 
rified  to  see  the  boards  of  the  floor  rising  and  falling  with 
a  terrible  noise.  A  moment  later  I  realized  the  situation. 
A  party  of  hogs  had  organized  a  raid,  having  for  its  ob 
ject  my  precious  potatoes.  A  sure-enough  "  yearthquate" 
would  have  been  less  appalling  to  me,  as  I  have  always 
been  mortally  afraid  of  hogs.  Just  then  one  of  the  in 
vaders  managed  to  knock  aside  a  board  and  get  his 
head  in  full  view.  I  shivered  with  terror,  but  Tempe 
now  grasped  the  state  of  the  case,  and,  being  "  to  the 
manner  born,"  leaped  forward  to  execute  dire  vengeance 
on  the  unfortunate  hog.  Seizing  a  burning  stick  from 
the  fire,  she  rushed  upon  the  intruder,  who  had  gotten 
wedged  so  that  advance  or  retreat  was  alike  impossible. 
Her  angry  cries,  and  the  piercing  squeals  of  the  hog, 
roused  all  in  the  vicinity.  Help  soon  came,  our  ene 
mies  were  routed,  quiet  was  restored.  My  pones  were  a 
great  success.  All  who  were  allowed  by  their  surgeons 
partook  of  them.  I  had  two  immense  pans  full  brought 
to  my  cabin,  where  those  who  were  able  brought  their 
plates  and  cups,  receiving  a  generous  quantity  of  the 
pone  and  a  cup  of  sweet  milk. 

But  these  struggles  and  hardships  were  nothing  in 
comparison  to  what  was  now  to  befall  us.  The  constant 
fighting  and  daily-increasing  number  of  wounded  at  the 
front  required  the  presence  of  experienced  surgeons. 
After  the  battle  of  Franklin  some  of  ours  were  sent 
up.  In  one  or  two  instances  those  who  replaced  them 
were  young  and  inexperienced.  They  were  permitted 
to  attend  the  convalescents  and  light  cases.  One  morn 
ing,  I  was  aroused  very  early  by  a  nurse  who  begged  me 
to  go  to  one  of  the  convalescents  who  had  been  calling 
for  me  all  night. 


OMEGA.  183 

Arrived  at  the  tent,  which  at  that  hour  was  rather 
dark,  I  lifted  the  flap  to  enter,  but  was  arrested  by  a 
piteous  cry  from  the  patient,  who  lay  facing  the  entrance. 
"  For  God's  sake  keep  out  that  light,"  said  he,  "  it  hurts 
ray  eyes."  The  nurse  said,  "  It's  masles  ho  has,  ma'am." 
So  I  concluded  the  pained  eyes  were  not  unusual. 

Approaching  the  bunk,  and  taking  the  patient's  hand, 
I  found  he  had  a  raging  fever.  But  when  I  placed  my 
hand  upon  his  forehead,  and  felt  the  dreadful  pustules 
thickly  covering  it,  my  heart  almost  ceased  to  beat.  An 
unreasoning  terror  overpowered  me ;  my  impulse  was  to 
flee  at  once  from  that  infected  tent.  But  I  must  not 
give  any  alarm,  so  I  simply  said  to  the  nurse,  "  I  will 
go  to  Dr.  Beatty  for  some  medicine ;  let  no  one  enter 
this  tent  until  I  come  back."  Dr.  Beatty  was  not  yet 
out  of  his  cabin,  but  receiving  my  urgent  message,  soon 
appeared.  I  said,  "  Doctor,  in  tent  No.  —  there  is  a 
very  sick  man;  can  wo  look  at  the  books  and  learn 
what  diagnosis  his  surgeon  has  made  ?"  Wo  went 
to  the  office,  found  the  patient's  name  and  number: 
diagnosis, — Measles.  I  then  said,  "Dr.  Beatty,  it  is  not 
measles,  but,  I  fear,  smallpox."  At  once,  the  doctor 
strode  off,  followed  closely  by  myself.  As  before,  the 
tent  was  dark.  "  Lift  those  flaps  high,"  said  the  surgeon. 
It  was  done,  and  there  lay  before  us  a  veritable  case  of 
smallpox. 

Dr.  Beatty's  entire  calmness  and  self-possession  quite 
restored  my  own.  Said  he,  "  I  must  have  time  to  con 
sult  my  surgeons,  to  determine  what  is  to  be  done. 
Meanwhile,  retire  to  your  cabin.  You  will  hear  from 
me  when  matters  are  arranged." 

The  next  few  hours  were  for  me  fraught  with  fearful 
anxiety  and  uncertainty, — yes,  uncertainty, — for  (to  my 
shame,  let  it  be  recorded)  I  actually  debated  in  my  own 
mind  whether  or  not  to  desert  these  unfortunate  boys  of 


184  MEMORIES. 

mine,  who  could  not  themselves  escape  the  threatened 
danger. 

God  helping  me,  I  was  able  to  resist  this  terrible 
temptation.  I  had,  I  reasoned,  been  already  exposed 
as  much  as  was  possible,  having  attended  the  sick  man 
for  days  before.  Having  dedicated  myself  to  the  Holy 
Cause,  for  better  or  worse,  I  could  not  desert  it  even 
when  put  to  this  trying  test.  So,  when  Dr.  Beatty 
came  to  say  that  in  a  few  hours  quarantine  would  be 
established  and  rigidly  enforced,  offering  me  transporta 
tion  that  I  might  at  once  go  on  with  the  large  party 
who  were  leaving,  I  simply  announced  my  determination 
to  remain,  but  asked  that  Tempe  might  be  sent  to  her 
owners  in  Alabama,  as  I  dared  not  risk  keeping  her. 

The  poor  fellow  who  had  been  first  seized  died  that 
night,  and  afterward  many  unfortunates  were  buried 
beneath  the  snow-laden  pines.  Some  of  the  nurses  fell 
sick ;  from  morning  until  night,  after,  far  into  the  night, 
my  presence  was  required  in  those  fever-haunted  tents. 

When  not  on  duty,  the  loneliness  of  my  cabin  was 
almost  insupportable.  Sometimes  I  longed  to  flee  away 
from  the  dismal  monotony.  Often  I  sat  upon  my  door 
step  almost  ready  to  scream  loudly  enough  to  drown 
the  sad  music  of  the  pines.  Since  the  war  I  have  seen 
a  little  poem  by  John  Esten  Cooke,  which  always  reminds 
me  of  the  time  when  the  band  in  the  pines  brought 
such  sadness  to  my  own  heart : 

"THE  BAND  IN  THE  PINES. 

"  Oh,  band  in  the  pine- wood  cease! 
Cease  with  your  splendid  call ; 
The  living  are  brave  and  noble, 
But  the  dead  were  bravest  of  all  I 

"  They  throng  to  the  martial  summons, 
To  the  loud,  triumphant  strain  ; 


OMEGA.  185 

And  the  dear  bright  eyes  of  long-dead  friends 
Come  to  the  heart  again. 

"  They  come  with  the  ringing  bugle 

And  the  deep  drum's  mellow  roar, 
Till  the  soul  is  faint  with  longing 
For  the  hands  we  clasp  no  more  I 

"Oh,  band  in  the  pine- wood  cease 
Or  the  heart  will  melt  in  tears, 
For  the  gallant  eyes  and  the  smiling  lips 
And  the  voices  of  old  years  1" 

When,  at  last,  we  were  released  from  durance  vile, 
the  Confederate  army  had  retreated.  Of  course,  the 
hospitals  must  follow  it.  By  this  time  my  health  was 
completely  broken  down.  The  rigors  of  the  winter, 
the  incessant  toil,  the  hard  rations  had  done  their  work 
well.  I  was  no  longer  fit  to  nurse  the  sick.  In  Febru 
ary  I  left  the  camp,  intending  to  go  for  a  while  wherever 
help  was  needed,  relying  upon  a  change  to  recuperate 
my  exhausted  energies. 

But  from  that  time  there  was  so  much  irregularity  as 
far  as  hospital  organization  was  concerned  that  one 
scarcely  knew  how  best  to  serve  the  sick.  Besides, 
the  presence  of  a  lady  had  become  embarrassing  to  the 
surgeons  in  charge  of  hospitals,  who,  while  receiving 
orders  one  day  which  were  likely  to  be  countermanded 
the  next,  often  having  to  send  their  stores,  nurses, 
etc.,  to  one  place  while  they  awaited  orders  in  another, 
could  find  no  time  to  provide  quarters  and  sustenance 
for  a  lady.  As  an  illustration  of  this  state  of  things,  I 
will  here  give  an  extract  from  a  letter  addressed  to  me 
after  the  war  by  Dr.  McAllister,  of  the  "  Buckner  Hos 
pital." 

"  I  was  ordered  late  in  November  to  Gainesville,  Ala 
bama;  before  reaching  that  place,  my  orders  were 

16* 


186  MEMORIES. 

changed  to  Macon  ;  in  February  to  Auburn,  Alabama ; 
thence  to  the  woods  to  organize  a  tent  hospital.     No 
sick  were  sent  there,  and  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
build.     Put  up  eighty  large  tents,  built  octagon  homes, 
with  rounded  tops,  and  flag-poles  on  the  top  of  each. 
Everything  looked  gloomy,  but  I  kept  on  as  if  I  expected 
to  remain  there  always.     Just  as  I  had  everything  com 
pleted,  received  orders  to  move  to  Charlotte,  North  Car 
olina.     When  I  got  to  Columbus,  Georgia,  was  ordered 
to   send   on    my  stores  with   my  negroes  and  women- 
servants,  in  charge  of  a  faithful  man,  while  I  and  my 
detailed  men  were  to  remain  in  the  city  during  its  in 
vestment,  and  as  long  as  the  struggle  lasted,  but  at  last 
to  save  myself,  and  join  my  stores  in  Macon,  Georgia. 
Eemained  during  the  fight,  while  the  city  fell,  and  all 
my  detailed  men  were  captured ;  rode  out  of  the  city  by 
the  light  of  the  burning  buildings,  and  my  road  was 
lighted  for  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  by  the  burning  city; 
borrowed  horses  about  twelve  at  night,  caught  the  last 
retreating  train,  put  my  servants  Noel  and  Sam  on  it; 
rode  on  with  my  true  friend  Dr.  Yates.     Found  the  ser 
vants  at  Genoa  Station,  a  distance  of  thirty-five  miles, 
next  morning  at  sunrise,  thence  to  Macon ;  next  night 
found  my  wife  on  the  same  crowded  box-car ;  left  her  with 
Mrs.  Yates,  Mrs.  Calan,  and  another  lady  from  Columbus. 
Some  of  my  stores  had  been  sent  to  Atlanta,  and  some 
had  been  sent  to  Macon  ;  then  the  railroad  was  cut  be 
tween  Macon  and  Atlanta;  I  had  either  to  remain  at 
Macon  and  be  captured,  or  take  the  only  road  that  was 
clear  to  Fort  Yalley,  which  I  did,  leaving  my  wife  and 
Mrs.  Yates  at  Dr.  Green's.      Yates,  myself,  Sam,  and 
Noel  took  to  the  woods,  and  there  remained  about  ten 
days,  living  as  best  we  could.     Then  there  was  a  flag  of 
truce,  and  we  came  into  Fort  Yalley.     Thousands  of 
Yankee  cavalry  were  there  in  camps ;  all  the  railroads 


OMEOA.  187 

cut  so  wo  could  not  leave.  One  night  we  stole  from  the 
Yankees  two  good  mules,  borrowed  a  wagon,  and  took 
our  wives  across  the  country  until  we  could  strike  one  end 
of  the  Atlanta  road,  of  which  the  Yankees  had  not  got 
possession  ;  went  on  into  the  city  of  Atlanta,  where  I  met 
Dr.  Stout,  who  told  me  the  game  was  up,  that  my  stores 
were  some  of  them  at  Congress  Station,  some  hundred 
miles  away  on  the  Augusta  road,  and  for  me  to  go  on  there 
and  surrender  to  the  first  Yankee  who  commanded  me  to 
do  so.  Great  heaven !  what  a  shock  to  me !  I  would 
rather  have  died  than  to  have  heard  it.  I  went  down 
the  road  and  found  my  stores,  but  did  not  have  the  honor 
of  surrendering  to  the  Yankees.  A  mob,  constituted  of 
women,  children,  and  renegade  Confederate  soldiers,  and 
with  some  negroes,  charged  my  encampment  and  took 
everything  except  my  wife,  and  trunks,  and  Mrs.  Yates, 
and  her  trunks,  which  we  saved  by  putting  them  into  a 
wagon  and  driving  for  our  lives  out  of  the  back  alley  of 
the  town.  At  last  we  came  to  Atlanta,  where  we  parted 
with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Yates.  My  wife  and  I  travelled  to 
Marion  in  an  old  wagon,  leaving  the  poor  negroes 
scattered  about  in  the  woods.  I  only  had  time  to  tell 
them  to  go  where  they  came  from,  to  their  former  own 
ers.  After  a  tedious  journey,  having  to  beg  my  bread, 
I  arrived  at  home  (Marion,  Alabama)  about  the  first  of 
May,  1865." 

The  same  irregularities  existed  everywhere  ;  my  state 
of  health  forbade  me  to  follow  these  erratic  movements : 
indeed,  I  was  utterly  broken  down  and  therefore  made 
my  way,  not  without  great  difficulty  and  many  deten 
tions,  to  Alabama,  where  my  little  Jboy  had  preceded  me. 
Even  then,  wo  never  dreamed  of  surrender,  nor  did  the 
sad  news  reach  us  until  many  days  after  it  had  taken 
place.  We  were  utterly  incredulous,  we  could  not,  would 
not  believe  it.  Meanwhile,  the  state  of  things  described 


188  MEMORIES. 

in  one  of  the  articles  contained  in  another  part  of  this 
book,  designed  for  children  (Sally's  ride)  culminated  in 
the  long-dreaded  Raid. 

Why  the  raiders  had  recrossed  the  river,  returning  to 
Selma,  and  leaving  undisturbed  (alas!  only  for  a  time) 
the  elegant  plantation-homes  which  lay  all  along  their 
route,  remained  a  mystery.  It  was  certain  that  a  de 
tachment  of  them  had  been  seen  and  reported  by  our 
own  scouts,  who  at  that  time  were  in  the  saddle  day 
and  night  "watching  their  motions;"  the  negroes  also 
declared,  "Dey  was  dare,  suah,  'case  we  dun  seed  'em." 
All  able-bodied  men  had  long  ago  gone  to  the  front. 
The  "  home-guard,"  who  were  doing  their  best  to  keep 
watch  and  ward  over  helpless  women  and  children,  were 
only  boys,  full  of  ardor  and  courage,  but  too  young  to 
join  the  army,  or  men  who  from  age  or  disability  were 
also  ineligible.  These  knew  every  inch  of  ground,  every 
hiding-place  for  many  miles.  At  every  plantation  they 
were  expected  and  welcome,  whenever  they  could  find 
an  opportunity  to  dash  in,  dismount,  report  the  state  of 
matters  outside,  and  hastily  swallow  the  "snack"  always 
kept  ready  and  set  before  them  without  loss  of  time, 
quite  as  a  matter  of  course. 

The  news  brought  by  these  scouts,  far  from  quieting 
apprehension,  tended  to  increase  and  deepen  it.  The 
old  man  who,  time  out  of  mind,  had  managed  the  little 
ferry  fifteen  miles  away,  had  been  shot  for  refusing  to 
ferry  over  some  Federal  soldiers.  The  bright  light  so 
anxiously  watched  one  dark  night  proved  to  have  been 
a  fire,  which  had  consumed  the  dwelling,  gin-house, 
stables,  etc.,  of  a  widowed  cousin.  Her  cows  had  been 
slaughtered,  her  horses  stolen,  her  garden  and  "  truck- 
patch"  ploughed  all  over  in  the  search  for  hidden  silver. 
Other  and  even  more  hideous  tales  (alas !  too  true)  ap 
palled  the  hearts  and  tried  the  courage  of  the  women, 


OMEGA.  189 

who  yet  must  never  give  up  trying  to  protect  the  interests 
confided  to  them,  must  seem  to  hold  the  reins  of  power 
when  really  they  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  negroes, 
who  (to  their  credit  be  it  spoken)  behaved  under  these 
trying  circumstances  extremely  well,  in  some  cases 
showing  the  most  affectionate  solicitude  and  sympathy. 
They  could  not,  however,  in  all  cases  be  trusted  to  with 
stand  the  bribes  sure  to  be  offered  for  information  as  to 
hiding-places  of  valuables.  So,  little  by  little,  silver  and 
jewelry  were  made  up  into  small  packages  to  be  dis 
posed  of  secretly. 

For  several  days  all  were  on  the  qui  vive.  The  fearful 
suspense,  dread,  and  anguish  of  that  time  will  never  be 
forgotten  by  those  who  shared  those  anxious  vigils ; 
from  earliest  light  until  nightfall,  restless  feet  traversed 
the  house  and  yard,  anxious  eyes  watched  every  possible 
approach, — the  road,  the  woods,  the  plantation.  At 
night,  not  one  of  the  "  white  folks"  thought  of  undress 
ing  ;  the  very  last  of  a  bag  of  real  coffee,  which  had  been 
treasured  like  gold,  was  now  brought  out.  During  the 
day,  the  usual  sweet-potato  coffee  was  served.  In  the 
cool  April  nights,  a  cheerful  fire  always  blazed  in  the 
open  fireplace  of  the  parlor,  by  it  was  set  a  pot  of  very 
strong  coffee,  upon  which  the  ladies  relied  to  keep  them 
awake.  One  at  a  time  would  doze  in  her  chair  or  upon 
the  sofa,  while  the  others  kept  watch,  walking  from 
window  to  window,  listening  at  the  fast-locked  door, 
starting  at  every  sound.  Occasionally  the  dogs  would 
bark  furiously :  "  There  they  are  I"  cried  everybody,  and 
rising  to  their  feet,  with  bated  breath  and  wildly -beating 
hearts,  they  would  listen  until  convinced  that  their  four- 
footed  friends  had  given  a  false  alarm.  Those  of  the 
women-servants  who  had  no  husbands  begged  every 
night  to  sleep  "  in  de  house."  They  were  terrified. 
Their  mattresses  strewed  the  floors,  and  it  really  seemed 


190  MEMORIES. 

as  if  they  were  a  kind  of  protection,  although  they 
always  fell  asleep  and  snored  so  loudly  as  to  drive  the 
ladies,  who  wanted  to  listen  for  outside  sounds,  to  the 
verge  of  distraction.  Some  one  would  occasionally  in 
terrupt  the  noise  by  administering  to  each  in  turn  a 
good  shake  or  insisting  upon  a  change  of  position,  but 
at  best  the  lull  was  temporary.  Soon  one  of  the  sleepers 
would  give  a  suppressed  snort,  to  be  immediately  joined 
by  one  after  another,  until  the  unearthly  chorus  once 
more  swelled  to  rack  the  quivering  nerves  of  the  listeners. 
Sometimes  a  peculiar  tapping  announced  the  presence 
outside  of  the  master  of  the  house.  Creeping  softly  to 
the  window  of  an  empty  room,  the  wife  would  receive 
assurances  of  present  safety.  She  would  then  hand  out 
valuable  packages  of  silver  or  jewelry  to  be  hidden  far 
in  the  woods  in  places  unknown  to  any  but  the  owner, 
who  marked  the  way  to  the  buried  treasure  by  "  blaz 
ing"  certain  trees.  Many  valuables  were  hidden  in  this 
way  and  recovered  after  the  war.  The  feeble  condition 
of  Colonel added  tenfold  to  the  anxiety  of  his  fam 
ily,  for,  although  he  persisted  in  doing  his  duty,  it  was 
certain  that  continual  exposure  and  fatigue  might  at 
any  time  prove  fatal.  Insidious  disease  was  even  then 
gnawing  at  his  vitals;  but,  Spartan-like,  he  folded  above 
the  dreadful  agony  the  robe  of  manly  courage  and  dig 
nity,  which  hid  it  from  even  those  who  knew  him  best. 
Amid  all  the  darkness  and  sorrow  his  pleasant  smile 
cheered,  his  commanding  presence  inspired  respect  and 
confidence.  From  the  windows  of  his  soul  shone  the 
steady  light  of  the  patriotism  that  hopeth  all  things, 
believeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things.  It  was  not 
God's  will  that  he  should  go  forth  to  battle,  but  with 
a  kindly  heart  and  generous  hand  he  helped  the  soldiers 
to  do  their  duty  by  caring  for  their  "loved  ones  at 
home." 


OMEGA.  191 

Meanwhile  the  noble  wife  proved  a  helpmate  indeed. 
A  true  type  of  Southern  women.  Not  a  duty  was 
neglected.  She  looked  well  to  the  ways  of  her  house 
hold  and  the  well-being  of  the  negroes  committed  to  her 
care.  The  spinning  and  weaving  of  cloth  for  the  almost 
naked  soldiers  in  the  field  went  on ;  the  quarters  were 
visited,  the  sick  were  cared  for.  The  calm,  steady  voice 
read  to  the  old,  precious  promises,  or  instructed  the 
young  negroes  as  to  the  way  of  truth.  So  day  after 
day  passed,  the  same  anxious  dread  chilling  all  hearts, 
added  fear  always  recurring  as  the  darkness  came  with 
its  terrible  possibilities. 

April  had  come,  bringing  a  greater  profusion  of 
flowers,  painting  the  face  of  nature  with  lovelier  hues. 
No  one  knew  why  the  neighborhood  had  thus  far  es 
caped  being  "raided."  One  evening  the  scouts  (not  one 
alone,  but  several)  reported,  "  Not  a  Yankee  on  this  side 
the  river.  Gone  off  on  a  raid  miles  on  the  other  side." 

Colonel  • came  in  later  confirming  the  report.     He 

was  persuaded  to  remain  for  one  night's  rest,  and  im 
mediately  retired  to  his  room.  About  dusk  two  men 
in  the  disguise  (it  is  now  believed)  of  Confederate  sol 
diers — ragged,  worn,  barefooted,  and  hungry — came 
stealing  in,  apparently  fearful  of  being  discovered  and 
taken  prisoners.  No  one  suspected  them.  They  were 
warmly  welcomed.  A  supper  of  broiled  ham,  milk, 
eggs,  corn-muffins,  and  real  coffee  was  set  before  them. 
They  were  afterwards  shown  to  a  comfortable  cabin  in 
the  yard, — "the  boys'  room," — provided  with  every 
comfort,  a  servant  to  wait  on  them,  and  left  to  repose. 
These  also  having  assured  the  ladies  that  "  the  Yanks" 
had  gone  off  on  a  raid  on  the  other  side,  it  was  deemed 
safe  to  take  advantage  of  such  an  opportunity  to  go  regu 
larly  to  bed  and  rest,  in  preparation  for  whatever  might 
befall  afterwards.  By  ten  o'clock  everybody  was  sound 


192  MEMORIES. 

asleep.  About  midnight  one  of  the  ladies,  hearing  a 
slight  noise,  arose  and  looked  out  the  window.  Old 
Whitey  was  walking  about  the  yard,  nibbling  the  grass. 
Knowing  he  was  never  allowed  in  the  yard,  she  simply 
supposed  that  one  of  the  servants  had  left  open  the 
quarter-gate.  Not  another  sound  save  the  mule's  step 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  night.  Strange  to  say,  the 
dogs  were  nowhere  to  be  seen,  nor  did  they  bark  at  the 
mule.  Wondering  a  little  at  this  circumstance,  the  lady 
was  about  to  lie  down  again,  when  simultaneously  every 
door  of  the  house  was  assailed  with  the  butts  of  guns 
with  a  terrific  noise.  At  the  same  time  many  hoarse 

voices  yelled,  "  Open  these  doors,  d y !     Open 

up,  here,  or  we'll  burn  the  house  over  your  heads!" 
Everybody  at  once  realized  the  situation.  In  that  fear 
ful  moment  strength  and  courage  seemed  to  come  as 
from  above.  The  servants,  sleeping  upon  the  floor, 
began  to  scream,  but  were  instantly  silenced.  The 
ladies,  slipping  on  dressing-gowns,  but  never  stopping 
to  put  on  shoes  or  stockings,  quietly  opened  the  doors. 
Instantly  the  whole  house  swarmed  with  Federal  sol 
diers.  Their  first  act  was  to  capture  Colonel and 

drag  him  outside  the  house,  giving  him  no  time  to  put  on 
any  clothes  save  his  pants  and  night-shirt.  The  raiders 
then  proceeded  to  ransack  the  house.  Every  room, 
every  closet,  every  trunk,  box,  drawer,  was  rifled. 
Two  men  went  to  the  sideboard,  quietly  gathering  up 
the  few  silver  spoons,  forks,  ladles,  etc.,  not  hidden, 
wrapped  them  up  and  put  them  in  their  pockets. 
Others  stripped  off  the  pillow-  and  bolster-cases,  stuffing 
them  with  clothing,  pictures,  etc.,  tied  them  together, 
and  placed  them  ready  to  be  slung  over  the  backs  of 
their  horses.  Bayonets  were  thrust  through  portraits ; 
the  sofas,  beds,  and  lounges  were  pierced  in  search  of 
concealed  valuables;  bureau-drawers  were  emptied,  then 


OMEOA.  193 

pitched  out  of  the  doors  or  windows;  the  panels  of 
locked  armoires  were  broken  or  kicked  to  pieces  to  get 
at  the  contents ;  even  the  linen  sheets  were  dragged  off 
the  beds  and  thrust  into  already  full  sacks  and  bags. 
Meanwhile,  bonfires  had  been  kindled  in  the  yard.  By 
the  light  the  swarming  demons  carried  on  their  destruc 
tive  work  outside.  Around  the  pans  of  delicious  milk 
in  the  dairy  men  reached  over  each  others'  heads  to  fill 
their  tin  cups.  Buttermilk,  clabber,  fresh  butter,  disap 
peared  in  an  instant.  In  the  basement  the  officers  were 
feasting  on  ham,  etc.  The  smoke-house  was  left  bare. 
Sugar,  meal,  flour,  rice,  were  emptied  into  the  yard,  and 
stamped  or  shuffled  into  the  dust.  Axes  or  the  butts  of 
guns  were  employed  to  literally  smash  everything.  Ham, 
shoulder-meat,  etc.,  were  tossed  into  wagons.  Cows 
were  driven  off",  and,  oh,  the  beautiful  horses,  the  pride 
and  pets  of  their  owners,  were  led,  snorting  and  fright 
ened,  into  the  road,  where  the  saddles  of  the  cavalry- 
horses  were  put  upon  their  shivering  backs  preparatory 
to  being  mounted  and  ridden  away  by  their  new  mas 
ters. 

With  perfect  calmness  the  ladies  watched  the  havoc 
and  desolation  which  was  being  wrought  in  their  beloved 
home,  among  their  household  treasures.  To  one  of  them 
had  been  given,  some  time  previous,  a  sacred  trust,  a 
watch  which  before  the  war  had  been  presented  to  a 
minister  by  his  congregation.  When  dying  in  one  of 

the  Confederate  hospitals  he  had  given  it  to  Mrs. , 

begging  that,  if  possible,  it  might  be  sent  to  his  wife  in 
Arkansas.  This  watch  had  been  concealed  upon  the 
tester  of  a  bed,  and  so  far  had  escaped  discovery.  But 
one  of  the  servants  having  given  information  regarding 
it,  suddenly  two  soldiers  dragged  Mrs.  -  -  into  her 
own  room,  where  they  believed  it  was  concealed.  She 
positively  refused  to  give  it  up.  Throwing  off  the  mat- 
I  n  17 


194  MEMORIES. 

tress,  the  men  held  a  match  to  the  feather-bed  beneath, 

saying,  "Here  goes  your  d d  old  house,  then."     Had 

the  house  been  her  own  she  might  still  have  resisted, 
but  as  she  was  only  a  guest,  and  had  been  sheltered  and 
most  kindly  treated,  the  watch  was  given  up.  The 
ruffians  then  insisted  upon  searching  her,  and  in  trying 
to  force  a  ring  from  her  finger,  bruised  and  hurt  the 
tender  flesh.  Even  the  negro  cabins  were  searched.  In 
several  instances  small  sums  of  money  which  had  been 
saved  up  were  taken.  Many  threats  to  burn  up  "  the 
whole  business"  were  made,  but,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  not  carried  into  effect.  Just  at  dawn  the  raiders 
mounted  their  horses  and  rode  away,  recrossing  the  river 
to  Selma  with  their  prisoners.  As  they  rode  through  the 
"  quarters,"  the  negro  men  joined  them  on  mules,  horses, 

or  on  foot.    Among  the  prisoners  rode  Colonel upon 

an  old,  worn-out  horse,  without  saddle  or  bridle.  By  his 
side,  guarding  him  and  mounted  upon  the  colonel's  mag 
nificent  riding-horse,  fully  accoutred,  was  a  negro  man  be 
longing  to  a  neighboring  plantation,  who  had  guided  the 

Federals  to  "  ole  's  place."    Just  behind,  upon  a 

sorry  mule,  escorted  by  a  mixture  of  negroes  and  Yankees 

riding  his  own  fine  horses,  came  Colonel  M ,  his  head 

erect,  his  eyes  blazing  scornfully,  glancing  from  sid»to 
side,  or  drawing  a  sharp,  hard  breath  between  his  clinched 
teeth  as  he  overheard  some  ribald  jest.  His  house  and 
gin-house  had  been  burned,  his  fields  laid  waste ;  he  had 
left  his  young  daughters  without  protection  and  without 
shelter.  What  the  ladies  felt  as  they  saw  this  sad  caval 
cade  pass  out  of  sight  may  not  be  told.  Morning 
dawned  upon  a  scene  of  desolation,  sickening  in  the  ex 
treme, — ruin,  waste,  wreck  everywhere.  The  house 
emptied  of  everything  valuable,  floors  filthy  with  the 
prints  of  muddy  feet,  the  garden  ruined,  furniture  bat 
tered  and  spoiled.  Outside,  broken  barrels,  boxes,  etc., 


OMEGA.  195 

strewed  the  earth  j  lard,  sugar,  flour,  meal  were  mingled 
together  and  with  the  sandy  soil ;  streams  of  molasses 
ran  down  from  broken  casks ;  guns  which  had  belonged 
to  the  family  were  broken  and  splintered  and  lay  where 
they  had  been  hurled ;  fences  were  broken  down.  Had 
there  been  any  stock  left,  there  was  nothing  to  keep  them 
out  of  garden  or  yard.  Only  old  Whitey  was  left,  how 
ever,  and  he  walked  gingerly  about  sniffing  at  the  cum 
bered  ground,  looking  as  surprised  as  he  was  able.  The 
carriage  and  buggy  had  been  drawn  out,  the  curtains  and 
cushions  cut  and  smeared  thoroughly  with  molasses  and 
lard.  Breakfast-time  arrived,  but  no  Ruthy  came  up 
from  the  quarter;  no  smoke  curled  upward  from  the 
kitchen-chimney ;  a  more  hopeless,  dismal  party  could 
not  well  be  imagined  than  the  three  women  who  walked 
from  room  to  room  among  the  debris,  neither  noticing 
or  caring  for  the  losses,  only  intensely  anxious  regard 
ing  the  helpless  prisoner,  who  was  surely  suffering,  but 
whom  they  could  not  hope  to  relieve.  As  the  day 
wore  on,  some  of  the  women  from  the  quarters  ven 
tured  near,  bringing  some  coarse  food  which  had  been 
cooked  in  their  own  cabins ;  they  would  not,  however, 
go  inside  the  house,  "Mass  Yankee  tole  us  we  gwine  ter 
get  kill  ef  we  wait  on  you  all."  Towards  evening  Mrs. 

walked  down  to  the  "  quarter."     Not  a  man  was 

to  be  seen.  The  women  were  evidently  frightened  and 
uncertain  as  to  how  far  the  power  of  "Mass  Yankee" 
extended.  Their  mistress  had  been  a  kind  friend,  and 
their  habitual  obedience  and  respect  for  her  could  not  at 
once  be  overcome,  but  the  threats  and  promises  of  the 
Federals  had  disturbed  and  unsettled  them.  Aunt 

Sophy  was  an  old  servant  who  had  nursed  Mrs. 's 

mother.  For  years  she  had  been  an  invalid,  kindly 
nursed  and  cared  for  by  her  master  and  mistress,  receiv 
ing  her  meals  from  the  family  table,  and  having  always 


196  MEMORIES. 

some  of  the  younger  servants  detailed  to  wait  on  her. 

Passing  by  her  cottage  now,  Mrs. was  astonished  to 

see  it  empty.  "Where  is  Sophy?  what  has  happened 
to  her?"  "Oh,  she  dun  gone  to  Selma."  "That  is  im 
possible;  why,  she  has  not  walked  even  as  far  as  the 
house  for  months."  "  Well,  she  dun  gone,  shuah ;  she 
make  Elsie  hitch  up  ole  Whitey  in  de  cart  and  dribe 
her  ober.  One  genplum  ho  gwine  gib  her  a  mule  for 
her  own  sef  and  forty  acres  ob  groun' ;  so  she  dun  gon' 
ter  see  'bout  hit."  "Did  any  one  else  go?"  "  Oh,  yes, 
mistis,  Uncle  Albert  and  Aunt  Alice  dey  go  too,  and  dey 
want  we  all  to  go  'long,  but  I's  gwine  ter  wait  untwill 
sees  what  Jack  got  ter  say,  'cause  I  ain't  gwine  nowha 
dragging  all  dem  chillum  along  untwill  I  knows  for 
sartin  whar  I's  gwine  ter  stop."  Sick  at  heart,  the 
lady  turned  away,  slowly  returning  to  the  desolated 
house.  Her  occupation  was  gone ;  order  and  system 
could  not  be  restored.  There  was  nothing  before  the 
anxious  woman  but  to  watch  and  wait  for  news.  On 
the  second  day  one  of  the  negro  men  returned,  bringing 

a  tale  almost  too  horrible  for  belief, — Colonel  M , 

whose  defiant  bearing  had  incensed  his  captors  more 
and  more,  had  been  shot  down  .for  refusing  to  obey 
orders.  "  Master  was  well,  but  looked  mighty  bad." 
The  man  also  brought  the  first  news  of  the  surrender, 
a  rumor  which  all  refused  to  believe,  although  even  the 
possibility  filled  all  breasts  with  terrible  forebodings. 
Could  it  be  true  ?  No !  a  thousand  times  no  1  And  yet, 
— oh,  the  dread,  the  anguish  of  waiting  to  know. 

The  bright  sunlight,  the  waving  trees,  the  joyous 
notes  of  the  feathered  songsters  seemed  a  mockery. 
Their  stricken  hearts  cried  out  to  all  the  beautiful  things 
of  nature, — 

"  How  can  ye  bloom  so  fresh  and  fair? 
How  can  ye  sing,  ye  little  birds,  and  I  so  weary,  fu*  o'  care  ?" 


OMEGA.  197 

Towards  evening  on  the  third  day  of  suspense  the  mas 
ter  returned  fresh  from  the  prison,  weary,  ragged,  dirty, 
and  utterly  woe-begone,  for  he  had  been  set  at  liberty 
only  to  learn  that  liberty  was  but  an  empty  sound.  Sadly 
he  confirmed  the  story  of  the  surrender.  The  kindly 
eyes  still  strove  to  cheer,  but  their  happy  light  was  for 
ever  quenched.  The  firm  lip  quivered  not  as  he  told  to 
the  sorrowing  women  the  woful  tale,  but  the  iron  had  en 
tered  his  soul  and  rankled  there  until  its  fatal  work  was 
accomplished.  Ah,  many  a  noble  spirit  shrunk  appalled 
from  the  "  frowning  Providence"  which  then  and  long 
afterwards  utterly  hid  the  face  of  a  merciful  and  loving 
Father.  And  yet,  as  mother  Nature  with  tender  hands 
and  loving  care  soon  effaces  all  traces  of  havoc  and 
desolation,  creating  new  beauties  in  lovely  profusion  to 
cover  even  the  saddest  ruins,  so  it  is  wisely  ordered  that 
time  shall  bring  healing  to  wounded  hearts.  The  women 
who  on  that  April  evening  long  ago  grieved  so  bitterly 
over  the  news  of  the  surrender  have  since  known  deep 
sorrow,  have  wept  over  many  graves.  But,  like  all  the 
women  of  the  South,  they  have  taken  up  the  burden  of 
life  bravely,  and,  G-od  helping  them,  will  not  falter  or 
fail  until  He  shall  release  them. 

By  and  by,  the  men  and  boys  of  the  family,  from 
distant  Appomattox,  from  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  came 
straggling  home.  All  had  walked  interminable  miles, — 
all  were  equally  ragged,  dirty,  foot-sore,  weary,  dejected, 
despairing.  They  had  done  their  best  and  had  failed. 
Their  labor  was  ended. 

All  over  the  land  lay  the  ruins  of  once  happy  homes. 
As  men  gazed  upon  them,  and  thought  of  the  past  and 
the  future,  the  apathy  of  despair  crept  over  them ;  life 
seemed  a  burden  too  heavy  to  be  borne ;  they  longed  to 
lay  it  down  forever.  For  a  time,  men  who  had  faced 
death  again  and  again  while  struggling  for  freedom, 

17* 


198  MEMORIES. 

could  not  find  courage  to  look  upon  the  desolation  of  the 
land,  or  to  face  the  dread  future.  Closing  their  weary 
eyes,  they  slept  until  the  clanking  of  chains  awakened 
them. 

Despotic  power  wrung  the  already  bleeding,  tortured 
heart  of  the  South,  until  crying  aloud,  she  held  out  to 
her  sons  her  fettered  hands.  And  then,  fully  aroused, 
hearing  the  piteous  cries,  the  rattle  of  chains,  seeing  the 
beloved  face,  full  of  woe,  conscious  of  every  bitter,  burn 
ing  tear  (which  as  it  fell,  seemed  to  sear  their  own 
hearts),  struggling  to  reach,  to  succor  her,  they  found 
themselves  bound  and  powerless  to  save. 

Alas,  dear  friends,  that  the  pathway  which  opened  so 
brightly,  which  seemed  to  lead  to  heights  of  superlative 
glory,  should  have  ended  beside  the  grave  of  hope.  Oh, 
was  it  not  hard  to  believe  that  "  whatever  is  is  right?" 
To  kneel  submissively  in  this  valley  of  humiliation,  and 
lift  our  streaming  eyes  to  the  heavens,  that  seemed  of 
brass,  to  the  Father  who,  it  then  appeared,  had  forgotten 
to  be  merciful.  The  glory  which  even  then  was  apparent 
to  the  outside  world,  could  not  penetrate  the  clouds 
which  hung  above  us. 

The  land  was  yet  red  with  blood  that  had  been  poured 
out  in  vain.  From  once  happy  homes  came  wails  of 
grief  and  despair. 

Even  the  embers  were  dead  upon  the  hearths  around 
which  loved  ones  should  never  more  gather. 

And  since  hope  is  dead,  and  naught  can  avail  to 
change  the  decrees  of  Fate,  let  me  close  this  record  of 
mingled  glory  and  gloom,  for  here  must  be  written, — 

OMEGA. 


CHAPTEK    VII. 

CONFEDERATE  WOMEN. 

No  historian  can  faithfully  recount  the  story  of  the 
war  and  leave  untouched  the  record  made  by  Southern 
women.  Their  patriotism  was  not  the  outcome  of  mere 
sentiment,  but  a  pure  steady  flame  which  from  the 
beginning  of  the  war  to  the  end  burned  brightly  upon 
the  altars  of  sacrifice,  which  they  set  up  all  over  the 
land.  "  The  power  behind  the  throne"  never  ceased  to 
be  felt.  Its  spirit  pervaded  every  breast  of  the  living 
barricades  which  opposed  the  invaders,  nerved  every 
arm  to  battle  for  the  right,  inspired  valorous  deeds  which 
dazzled  the  world.  From  quiet  homes  far  from  the 
maddening  strife,  where  faithful  women  toiled  and  spun, 
facing  and  grappling  with  difficulties,  even  dangers, 
never  complained  of,  came  bright,  cheery  letters,  un 
shadowed  by  the  clouds  which  often  hung  dense  and  dark 
over  their  daily  pathway  but  glowing  with  unshaken 
faith,  undaunted  patriotism,  lofty  courage,  and  more 
than  all  pride  in  the  exceptional  bravery  which  they 
always  took  for  granted.  Men  must  not  fail  to  come  up 
to  the  standard  set  up  in  simple  faith  by  mothers,  wives, 
daughters,  and,  as  all  the  world  knows,  they  did  not. 

It  was  my  daily  business  during  the  war  to  read  and 
answer  letters  to  sick  soldiers.  Almost  all  were  such  as 
I  have  described.  A  few,  alas  1  were  far  different.  As 
I  read  them  and  watched  the  agony  they  caused,  I 
understood  why  some  men  became  deserters,  and  abso 
lutely  revered  the  manliness  and  patriotism  which  re 
sisted  a  temptation  so  terrible. 

199 


200  MEMORIES. 

It  seemed  once  that  I  could  never  forget  the  contents 
of  letters  which  particularly  impressed  me,  but  am  sorry 
I  have  done  so  and  cannot  reproduce  them  here.  One  I 
can  never  forget.  A  tall,  splendid  Missouri  soldier  came 
into  my  office  one  morning,  his  face  convulsed  with 
grief.  Handing  me  a  letter,  he  sank  into  a  chair,  burying 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  sobbing  pitifully.  A  letter  had 
been  somehow  conveyed  to  him  from  his  sister-in-law 
announcing  that  his  wife  was  dying  of  consumption. 
Appended  to  the  letter  (which  was  sad  enough)  were  a 
few  lines  written  by  the  trembling  hand  of  the  dying 
one.  "Darling,  do  not  let  any  thoughts  of  me  come 
between  you  and  your  duty  to  our  country.  I  have 
longed  to  see  you  once  more,  to  die  with  my  head  upon 
your  breast;  but  that  is  past, — I  am  calm  and  happy. 
We  have  long  known  that  this  parting  must  be ;  perhaps 
when  my  soul  is  free  I  may  be  nearer  you.  If  possible, 
my  spirit  will  be  with  you  wherever  you  are." 

I  can  only  recall  these  few  lines.  A  volume  could  not 
convey  more  strongly  the  spirit  of  Southern  women, 
strong  even  in  death.  I  could  only  offer  the  stricken 
soldier  the  little  comfort  human  sympathy  can  give,  but 
my  tears  flowed  plentifully  as  he  told  me  of  his  wife  and 
his  home. 

He  was,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  killed  at  the  battle 
of  Franklin.  I  thought  almost  with  pleasure  of  the 
happy  reunion  which  I  felt  sure  must  have  followed. 

How  often  I  have  marshalled  into  the  hospital  wards 
mothers  and  wives,  who  for  the  sake  of  some  absent 
loved  one  had  come  from  homes  many  miles  away,  to 
bring  some  offering  to  the  sick.  Timid,  yet  earnest 
women,  poorly  dressed,  with  sunbrowned  faces  and 
rough  hands,  yet  bearing  in  their  hearts  the  very  essence 
of  loving-kindness  towards  the  poor  fellows  upon  whose 
pale  faces  and  ghastly  wounds  they  looked  with  "  round- 


CONFEDERATE   WOMEN.  201 

eyed  wonder"  and  pity.  After  a  while  they  would  gain 
courage  to  approach  some  soldier  whom  they  found 
"sort  o'  favored"  their  own,  to  whom  they  ventured 
to  offer  some  dainty,  would  stroke  the  wasted  hand, 
smooth  the  hair,  or  hold  to  the  fevered  lips  a  drink  of 
buttermilk  or  a  piece  of  delicious  fruit.  Ah,  how  many 
times  I  have  watched  such  scenes!  To  the  warmly- 
expressed  thanks  of  the  beneficiaries  they  would  simply 
answer,  "That  is  nothing;  'mebbe'  somebody  will  do  as 
much  for  mine  when  he  needs  it." 

About  seven  miles  from  Einggold,  Georgia,  lived  an 
old  couple,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kussell,  who,  although  ardently 
loving  the  cause,  were  too  old  and  feeble  to  serve  it  other 
wise  than  by  their  unceasing  prayers,  and  by  giving 
freely  of  their  substance  to  sustain  the  patients  at  the 
hospitals  then  established  at  Einggold.  Their  daughter, 
"  Miss  Phemie,"  a  beautiful  young  girl,  was  never  weary 
of  conferring  benefits  upon  the  Southern  soldiers;  every 
day  she  rode  in,  never  minding  even  heavy  storms,  and 
often  riding  upon  a  wagon  because  it  would  hold  a  larger 
supply  of  vegetables,  etc.  Many  a  soldier  was  taken  to 
the  homestead  to  be  cared  for.  Those  who  could  not 
go  from  under  medical  or  surgical  treatment  were  often 
treated  to  little  rides.  Her  devotion  to  the  soldiers  I  can 
never  forget. 

Among  the  sick  and  wounded  who  were  sent  to  the 
hospital  at  Newnan  were  many  Georgians  whose  homes 
were  within  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles. 

After  the  fight  at  Missionary  Ridge,  two  boys,  brothers, 
were  brought  in.  One  was  threatened  with  pneumonia  ; 
the  other,  a  lad  of  sixteen,  had  his  right  arm  shattered 
from  the  shoulder  down.  At  his  earnest  request  his 
mother  was  sent  for;  the  necessary  amputation  being 
deferred  awhile,  because  he  begged  so  hard  that  the 
surgeon  should  await  her  arrival.  She  had  to  ride  all 


202  MEMORIES. 

the  way  on  a  wagon  drawn  by  a  steer  (oh,  mothers, 
can  you  not  imagine  the  agony  which  attended  that 
lengthened  journey?),  and  she  was  so  long  detained  that 
I  had  to  take  her  place  at  her  boy's  side  while  the  opera 
tion  was  performed.  The  boy  rapidly  sunk, — when  his 
mother  came  was  past  speaking,  and  could  only  express 
with  his  dying  eyes  his  great  love  for  her.  Kneeling 
beside  him,  she  watched  intently,  but  without  a  tear  or 
a  sob,  the  dear  life  fast  ebbing  away.  The  expression 
of  that  mother's  face  no  one  who  saw  it  can  ever  forget. 

When  all  was  over,  I  led  her  to  my  own  room,  where 
she  asked  to  be  left  alone  for  a  while.  At  last,  in  answer 
to  the  sobbing  appeals  of  her  remaining  son,  she  opened 
the  door.  He  threw  himself  into  her  arms,  crying  out, 
"Buddie's  gone,  but  you're  got  me,  ma,  and  I'll  never 
leave  you  again.  I'll  help  you  take  Buddie  home,  and 
I'll  stay  with  you  and  help  you  work  the  farm." 

The  mother  gently  and  tenderly  held  him  off  a  little 
way,  looking  with  burning  eyes  into  his  face;  her  own 
was  pale  as  death,  but  not  a  sob  or  tear  yet.  Quietly 
she  said,  "  No,  my  son,  your  place  is  not  by  me  ;  I  can 
get  along  as  I  have  done ;  you  are  needed  yonder  (at  the 
front);  go  and  avenge  your  brother;  he  did  his  duty  to 
the  last;  don't  disgrace  him  and  me.  Come,  son,  don't 
cry  any  more ;  you're  mother's  man,  you  know." 

That  same  night  that  mother  started  alone  back  to 
her  home,  bearing  the  coffined  body  of  her  youngest 
son,  parting  bravely  from  the  elder,  whose  sorrow  was 
overwhelming.  Just  before  leaving,  she  took  me  aside 
and  said,  "  My  boy  is  no  coward,  but  he  loved  his  Bud 
die,  and  is  grieving  for  him ;  try  to  comfort  him,  won't 
you?" 

I  did  try,  but  during  the  whole  night  he  paced  with 
restless  feet  up  and  down  my  office.  At  daylight  I  sat 
watching  his  uneasy  slumber. 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  203 

A  few  weeks  later  a  young  wife  came  by  train  to 
visit  her  husband,  who  lay  very  ill  of  fever,  bringing 
with  her  a  lovely  blue-eyed  baby  girl  about  two  years 
old. 

I  found  a  room  for  her  at  a  house  near  the  hospital, 
and  she  was  allowed  to  nurse  her  husband.  When  he 
was  nearly  ready  to  report  for  duty,  a  fearfuF  accident 
happened  by  which  the  baby  nearly  lost  her  life,  and 
was  awfully  disfigured.  At  the  house  where  the  young 
wife  boarded  there  was  a  ferocious  bull-dog,  which 
was  generally  kept  chained  until  it  showed  such  evident 
fondness  for  the  babe  that  he  was  sometimes  allowed  to 
lie  upon  the  gallery  beside  it  while  it  slept,  and  the 
little  one  on  awakening  would  crawl  all  over  the  dog, 
who  patiently  submitted,  and  would  affectionately  lick 
her  face. 

One  day,  however,  when  the  family  were  all  assem 
bled  upon  the  gallery,  the  dog  suddenly  sprung  upon 
the  little  girl,  fastening  his  dreadful  fangs  in  one  side  of 
her  face.  Everybody  was  stricken  with  horror.  Noth 
ing  availed  to  make  the  beast  loosen  his  hold,  until  sud 
denly  he  withdrew  his  teeth  from  the  child's  face  and 
fastened  them  once  more  in  her  shoulder.  At  last,  as 
no  other  alternative  presented  itself,  some  one  placed  a 
pistol  to  his  ear  and  killed  him.  The  baby  on  being 
released  still  breathed,  but  was  so  torn  and  disfigured 
that  the  sight  turned  strong  men  sick. 

The  father  fell  in  a  swoon ;  the  young  mother,  pale 
and  shaking  as  with  an  ague,  yet  held  her  mutilated 
babe  through  all  the  examination  and  the  surgical 
operations  which  followed.  For  two  weeks  it  seemed 
as  if  the  child  must  die,  but  she  did  not,  and  soon,  un 
conscious  of  her  disfigurement,  began  to  play  and  smile. 
All  pitied  the  unfortunate  father  when,  after  some  time 
allowed  him  through  sympathy  with  his  misfortune,  it 


204  MEMORIES. 

became  necessary  for  him  to  return  to  the  front.  Ho 
had  borne  an  excellent  record,  but  now  broke  down 
utterly,  declaring  he  could  not  leave  his  child.  The 
young  wife,  putting  down  with  a  strong  hand  her  own 
sorrow,  actually  set  herself  to  rouse  her  husband  to  a 
sense  of  duty,  and  succeeded;  I  was  present  at  the 
depot  when  the  brave,  girlish  wife  waved  to  the  soldier 
a  smiling  farewell,  and  afterwards  witnessed  her  vain 
efforts  to  suppress  the  short,  sharp  screams  of  agony 
which  had  been  kept  under  as  long  as  her  husband 
needed  to  be  upheld,  but  which  after  his  departure  con 
vulsed  her  at  intervals  for  hours. 

There  are  two  women  against  whom,  during  and 
since  the  war,  I  held  and  still  hold  a  grudge.  One  was 
of  that  class  of  women  who  undervalue  and  strive  to 
undo  all  the  good  done  by  others;  who  hold  opinions 
and  views  which  they  absolutely  insist  upon  carrying 
out  regardless  of  consequences. 

During  the  whole  four  years  of  the  war  I  was 
annoyed  by  these  would-be  directresses  of  hospitals. 
They  would  intrude  themselves  into  my  wards,  where 
they  hesitated  not  to  air  their  superior  knowledge  of 
all  sickness,  to  inspire  discomfort  and  distrust  in  the 
patients  by  expressive  gestures,  revealing  extreme  sur 
prise  at  the  modes  of  treatment,  and  by  lugubrious 
shakes  of  the  head  their  idea  of  the  inevitably  fatal  re 
sult.  While  the  kindly  women,  who,  though  already 
overburdened,  would  take  from  the  wards  of  the  hospital 
enough  of  convalescents  or  sick  men  to  crowd  their  own 
homes,  often  thereby  saving  lives, — always  doing  good, — 
these  prowling  women  would  manage  to  convey  their 
sense  of  the  dreadful  condition  of  hitherto  well-satisfied 
patients  without  ever  suggesting  a  remedy.  In  one  of 
the  large  churches  used  for  sick-wards  in  Newnan  lay  a 
young  man  from  Maryland,  who  had  suffered  the  ampu- 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  205 

tation  of  an  arm.  The  wound  had  been  carefully  ban 
daged,  the  arteries  taken  up,  etc.,  but  as  inflammation 
supervened  the  pain  became  almost  unbearable,  the 
poor  fellow  moaned  unceasingly.  One  night  two  old 
women  visited  the  ward.  Afterward,  upon  making  my 
last  round,  I  found  the  young  man  above  mentioned  so 
quiet  that  I  did  not  disturb  him.  It  so  happened  that 
Dr.  Merri weather,  of  Alabama,  was  in  Newnan,  in  close 
attendance  upon  his  young  son,  who  had  received  a 
most  peculiar  and  apparently  fatal  wound.  He  was  shot 
through  the  liver.  The  wound,  at  all  times  excessively 
painful,  exuded  bile.  Whenever  Dr.  Merriweather  wanted 
an  hour's  rest  I  took  my  place  at  the  bedside  of  the  lad. 
Interest  in  the  case  took  me  very  frequently  to  the  ward. 
Just  before  bedtime,  therefore,  I  returned  to  the  side  of 
young  Merriweather  to  let  his  father  off  for  a  while. 
Inquiring  of  the  nurse  as  to  the  patient  who  had  been  so 
restive,  I  learned  that  he  had  neither  moved  nor  spoken. 
Feeling  uneasy,  I  walked  over  to  the  corner  where  he 
lay.  At  once  I  heard  a  drip,  drip,  drip,  and,  calling  for 
a  light,  soon  discovered  that  the  bed  and  floor  were 
bloody.  Dr.  Yates  was  called  at  once,  but  too  late.  That 
dreadful  meddler,  the  old  woman  visitor,  had  actually 
dared  to  loosen  the  bandages,  and  the  poor  victim,  feel 
ing  only  relief,  had  sunk  tranquilly  to  his  death. 

The  other  was  a  heartless  girl,  who  has,  I  feel  sure, 
by  this  time  made  a  selfish,  unloving  wife  to  some  poor 
man.  Her  lover,  after  the  battle  of  Franklin,  was 
brought  to  the  tent  hospital,  having  lost  a  leg  and  being 
wounded  in  the  face.  He  confided  to  me  the  fact  of  his 
engagement  to  "  one  of  the  prettiest  and  peartest  girls  in 
'  Massissip,'  "  and  begged  me  to  write  her  of  his  condi 
tion,  and,  said  the  poor  fellow,  "  If  she  don't  care  about 
sticking  to  a  fellow  murdered  up  like  I  am,  I  reckon  I'll 
have  to  let  her  off"  (this  with  a  sigh).  Then,  with  a 

18 


206  MEMORIES. 

brighter  look,  "  Maybe  she'll  stick,  anyhow."  How  he 
watched  for  the  answer  to  that  letter  1  His  restlessness 
was  pitiful  to  see.  I  tried  to  help  him  by  reading  to 
him  and  by  relating  to  him  instances  of  women  who 
only  loved  more  because  the  object  of  their  affection 
had  been  unfortunate.  Among  other  things,  I  told  him 
of  the  noble  English  girl  who  wrote  to  her  mangled 
lover  that  she  still  loved  and  would  marry  him  "  if 
there  was  enough  of  his  body  left  to  contain  his  soul." 
Afterward  I  felt  sorry  that  I  had  encouraged  him  to 
hope,  for  it  was  my  misfortune  to  read  to  him  a  very 
cold  letter  from  his  lady-love,  who  declined  to  marry 
" a  cripple"  She  wanted  a  husband  who  could  support 
her,  and  as  some  man  who  lived  near  was  "  mighty  fond 
of  her  company  and  could  give  her  a  good  home,"  she 
reckoned  she  would  take  his  offer  under  considera 
tion. 

For  a  few  days  my  poor  young  friend  was  inconsol 
able;  but  one  morning  I  found  him  singing.  "I've  been 
thinking  over  that  matter,"  said  he,  "  and  I  reckon  I've 
had  a  lucky  escape.  That  trifling  girl  would  never 
have  made  me  a  good,  faithful  wife."  From  that  day 
he  seemed  to  have  recovered  his  cheerfulness.  I  have 
never  forgiven  that  faithless  girl. 

All  over  the  South,  wherever  "pain  and  anguish  wrung 
the  brow"  of  their  defenders,  women  became  "  minister 
ing  angels." 

Even  those  who  had  been  bereft  of  their  own  sup 
pressed  their  tears,  stifled  the  cry  of  bleeding  hearts, 
and,  by  unwearied  attention  to  living  sufferers,  strove 
to  honor  their  dead.  Self-abnegation  was,  during  the 
war,  a  word  of  meaning  intense  and  real.  Its  spirit 
had  its  dwelling-place  in  the  souls  of  faithful  women, 
looked  out  from  the  bright  eyes  of  young  girls,  whose 
tender  feet  were  newly  set  in  a  thorny  pathway,  as  well 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  207 

as  from  the  pale,  stricken  faces  of  those  whose  hearts 
the  thorn  had  pierced. 

Among  the  tender  and  true  women  with  whom  I 
have  corresponded  since  the  war  is  the  mother  of 
Colonel  Robadeaux  Wheat,  the  noble  Louisianian  who 
fell  at  Gaines's  Mill.  I  have  several  of  her  letters  by 
me,  written  in  the  tremulous  hand  of  one  who  had 
passed  her  seventy-ninth  birthday,  but  glowing  with 
love  for  the  cause,  and  fondest  pride  in  the  sons  who 
died  in  its  defence.  It  is  touching  to  see  how  she  clings 
to  and  cherishes  the  record,  given  by  his  companions  in 
arms,  of  "  Robadeux's"  last  hours  on  earth,  when,  in  the 
early  morning,  before  going  forth  to  battle,  his  heart 
seemed  to  return  to  the  simple  faith  of  his  boyhood, 
and,  gathering  his  subordinate  officers  around  him  in 
his  tent,  he  read  reverently  the  service  of  prayer  which 
committed  himself  and  them  to  the  protection  of  the 
God  of  battles.  Mrs.  Wheat's  letters  are,  I  think, 
among  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  I  ever  read, 
yet  sprightly  and  interesting.  Believing  that  all  my 
readers  will  feel  an  interest  in  the  mother  of  glorious 
"Bob  Wheat,"  I  will  here  transcribe  a  small  portion. 
In  one  letter  she  says, — 

"  I  am,  thank  God,  in  excellent  health  for  one  aged 
seventy-eight.  My  husband  was  born  in  this  city 
(Washington,  D.  C.)  in  the  year  one,  he  says. 

"  We  shall  soon  celebrate  the  fifty-ninth  anniversary 
of  our  marriage,  and  he  is  deeply  engaged  upon  some 
1  post-nuptial  lines'  for  me." 

In  another, — 

"  I  want  to  send  you  a  sword  and  flag  for  the  Expo 
sition.  How  I  wish  I  could  take  it  to  New  Orleans, 
where  I  lived  many  years  when  my  husband  was  rector 


208  MEMORIES. 

of  St.  Paul's  Church !  You  know,  our  second  son,  I.  T 
Wheat,  was  Secretary  of  the  Secession  Committee  when 
Louisiana  seceded,  also  Secretary  of  the  Legislature. 
He  was  killed  at  Shiloh  at  the  same  hour  as  General 
Sydney  Johnston,  and  is  buried  in  Nashville.  We  are 
hoping  to  have  the  dear  brother's  monument  in  Holly 
wood,  Eichmond,  where  both  beloved  ones  shall  rest  in 
the  same  grave."  ....  In  conclusion,  "  Our  love  and 
blessings  rest  ever  on  yourself  and  all  friends  of  our 
hero  sons.  Truly  yours,  in  Christian  fellowship, 

"  SELIMA  WHEAT." 

Here  is  the  record  of  another  mother,  who  is  to  this 
day  proud  of  the  splendid  record  made  by  her  sons,  and 
devoted  in  the  memory  of  the  cause. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  war  there  lived  in 
Sharon,  Mississippi,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  O'Leary,  surrounded 
by  a  family  of  five  stalwart  sons.  Mrs.  Catharine 
O'Leary  was  a  fond  and  loving  mother,  but  also  an 
unfaltering  patriot,  and  her  heart  was  fired  with  love 
for  the  cause  of  Southern  liberty.  Therefore,  when  her 
brave  sons,  one  after  the  other,  went  forth  to  battle  for 
the  right,  she  bade  them  God-speed.  "Be  true  to  your 
God  and  your  country,"  said  this  noble  woman,  "  and 
never  disgrace  your  mother  by  flinching  from  duty." 

Her  youngest  and,  perhaps,  dearest  was  at  that  time 
only  fifteen.  For  a  while  she  felt  that  his  place  was 
by  her  side  ;  but  in  1863,  when  he  was  barely  seven 
teen,  she  no  longer  tried  to  restrain  him.  Her  trembling 
hands,  having  arrayed  the  last  beloved  boy  for  the  sac 
rifice,  rested  in  blessings  on  his  head  ere  he  went  forth. 
Repressing  the  agony  which  swelled  her  heart,  she 
calmly  bade  him,  also,  "  Do  your  whole  duty.  If  you 
must  die,  let  it  be  with  your  face  to  the  foe."  And  so 
went  forth  James  A.  O'Leary,  at  the  tender  age  of  seven- 
* 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  209 

teen,  full  of  ardor  and  hope.  He  was  at  once  assigned 
to  courier  duty  under  General  Loring.  On  the  28th  of 
July,  1864,  at  the  battle  of  Atlanta,  he  was  shot  through 
the  hip,  the  bullet  remaining  in  the  wound,  causing  in 
tense  suffering,  until  1870,  when  it  was  extracted,  and 
the  wound  healed  for  the  first  time.  Notwithstanding 
this  wound,  he  insisted  upon  returning  to  his  command, 
which,  in  the  mean  time,  had  joined  Wood's  regiment  of 
cavalry.  This  was  in  1865,  and  so  wounded  he  served 
three  months,  surrendering  with  General  Wirt  Adams 
at  Gainesville.  A  short  but  very  glorious  record.  This 
young  hero  is  now  residing  in  Shreveport,  Louisiana,  is 
a  successful  physician,  and  an  honored  member  of  the 
veteran  association  of  that  city, — Dr.  James  A.  O'Leary. 

Of  his  brothers,  the  oldest,  Ignatius  S.  O'Leary, 
served  throughout  the  war,  and  is  now  a  prominent 
druggist  of  Yicksburg,  Mississippi. 

Dr.  Richard  O'Leary,  surgeon  P.  A.  C.  S.,  now  prac- 
•tises  medicine  in  Yicksburg. 

Cornelius  O'Leary,  badly  wounded  at  the  battle  of 
Fredericksburg,  lay  on  the  field  for  hours  with  the 
legions  of  friend  and  foe  alternately  charging  over  him. 
After  a  long  illness  he  recovered,  and  is  now  a  planter 
near  Sharon,  Mississippi. 

John  Pearce  O'Leary  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  the 
Wilderness. 

Mrs.  O'Leary  still  lives  in  Sharon.  The  old  fire  is 
unquenched. 

There  are  two  names  of  patriotic  women  which  will 
always  awaken  in  every  ^Southern  heart  profound  vener 
ation,  and  imperishable  love  and  gratitude, — women  who 
devoted  themselves  so  entirely,  so  continuously  to  the 
soldiers  of  the  Confederacy  as  to  obliterate  self,  uncon 
sciously  winning  for  themselves  the  while  a  name  and 
fame  which  history  will  proudly  record. 
o  is* 


210  MEMORIES. 

Their  names — written  in  many  hearts,  fondly  cherished 
in  the  homes  of  veterans  whose  children  are  taught  to 
revere  them — are  Mrs.  Buck  Morris  and  Mrs.  L.  M.  Cald- 
well.  Mrs.  Morris  was  by  birth  a  Kentuckian,  but  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war  resided  with  her  husband,  a  promi 
nent  and  wealthy  lawyer,  in  Chicago,  Illinois. 

Her  sympathies,  always  Southern,  became  strongly  en 
listed  upon  the  side  of  the  unfortunate  prisoners  at  Camp 
Douglas.  Both  Judge  Morris  and  his  wife  were  deeply 
implicated  in  the  plot  to  release  these  men.  Their  home 
in  Chicago  was  a  place  of  secret  rendezvous  for  Southern 
ers  who,  in  the  interest  of  these  prisoners,  were  secretly 
visiting  Chicago. 

By  some  means  constant  communication  with  the 
prisoners  was  established,  and  if  they  still  suffered  hor 
ribly,  hope  revived  among  them  for  a  while,  and  her 
blessed  presence  lightened  their  burdens.  Mrs.  Morris 
well  knew  that  by  implicating  herself  in  the  plot  she 
was  placing  herself  and  husband  in  a  position  to  suffer 
in  their  own  persons  and  property  in  case  of  failure. 
Death  would  be  the  most  probable  consequence.  Yet 
she  risked  it  all.  To  use  her  own  words,  copied  from 
a  letter  which  I  received  from  her  shortly  before  her 
^eath,  "  I  did  help  my  suffering,  starving  countrymen, 
Who  were  subjected  to  the  horrors  of  Camp  Douglas.  I 
loved  them  with  all  the  sympathy  and  pride  of  a  mother, 
and  I  did  spend  upon  them  every  dollar  of  my  own 
money  and  as  much  of  my  husband's  as  I  could  get  by 
fair  means  or  foul  in  my  hands. , 

"  At  the  close  of  the  war  we  found  ourselves  broken  in 
health  and  fortune,  but  my  husband  had  still  enough 
left  for  our  support ;  but  the  great  Chicago  fire  swept 
our  all  away. 

"  Should  my  health  improve,  I  wish  to  make  an  effort 
to  send  you  a  fuller  account,  and  to  add  my  small  morsel 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  211 

of  praise  to  the  gallantry  and  patient  endurance  of  the 
most  bitter  and  maddening  trials  that  men  were  ever 
called  upon  to  endure. 

"  One  unselfish  action  I  would  like  to  have  recorded 
of  a  member  of  J.  H.  Morgan's  command,  the  same  to 
which  my  dear  friend  Colonel  B.  F.  Forman  belonged, 
and  he  can  tell  you  how  proud  all  Kentucky  was  of  her 
brave  boys.  This  is  what  I  wish  to  write,  because  I  like 
to  have  every  noble  deed  recorded.  After  my  good 
brother,  Ex-Governor  Blackman  (who  has  administered 
medicine  whenever  I  needed  it),  removed  to  Tennessee, 
and  I  felt  the  attack  coming  on  from  which  I  have  so 
long  and  so  severely  suffered,  I  applied  to  Dr.  R.  Wilson 
Thompson  for  medical  advice,  and,  receiving  it,  put  my 
hand  in  my  pocket.  He  said,  almost  sternly,  'No,  no, 
Mrs.  Morris,  do  not  attempt  that ;  you  cannot  do  it,' 
and,  rising  abruptly,  left  the  house.  Eeturning  the 
second  day,  he  said,  '  I  fear  you  did  not  understand  me, 
Mrs.  Morris :  I  feel  as  every  Confederate  soldier  feels,  or 
ought  to  feel, — that  he  could  never  do  enough  for  you  ; 
we  could  never  receive  pay  from  you  for  anything.'  And 
so  for  the  last  five  months  he,  although  like  many  of  our 
brave  boys  has  had  many  hardships  to  endure,  and  his 
constitution  shattered,  has  come  through  snow  and  sleet 
night  and  day  to  minister  to  the  relief  of  an  old  woman 
who  only  did  her  duty  to  him  and  his  people  twenty 
long  years  ago.  How  few  remember  to  be  grateful  so 
long !  Present  my  best  love  to  my  old  friend  B.  F.  For 
man.  I  remain  always  your  friend  and  well-wisher, 

"MRS.  MARY  B.  MORRIS. 

" SPRING  STATION,  KENTUCKY." 

From  one  of  the  many  Louisiana  soldiers  who  re 
ceived,  at  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Caldwell,  the  tender  care 
and  excellent  nursing  which  doubtless  saved  his  life,  I 


212  MEMORIES. 

have  received  a  description  of  the  "  Refuge,"  which, 
during  three  years  of  the  war,  was  opened  to  Louisiana 
soldiers ;  not  to  officers,  although  a  few  personal  friends 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Caldwell  were  there  by  special  invita 
tion  ;  but  it  was  understood  that  none  but  private  sol 
diers  were  expected  without  an  invitation,  while  all 
privates  were  welcomed  as  to  a  home. 

"The  'Refuge,'  the  residence  of  John  E.  Caldwell 
during  the  war,  was  situated  in  Amherst  County,  Vir 
ginia,  about  three  and  a  half  miles  from  Lynchburg. 
The  residence  was  of  peculiar  build,  having  more  the 
appearance  of  the  Queen  Anne  style  of  architecture 
than  any  else,  and  was  probably  the  only  house  in  that 
section  of  country  where  the  constructor  had  diverged 
from  the  accepted  style  for  a  country  residence,  hence, 
even  in  its  isolated  situation,  it  was  known  far  and  wide. 
The  estate  comprised  an  area  of  about  eight  hundred 
acres,  and  was  cultivated  in  wheat,  corn,  etc.  The  route 
to  it  from  Lynchburg  lay,  for  about  a  mile  and  a  half, 
along  the  north  side  of  the  James  River,  from  which 
the  road  turned  at  almost  right  angles  toward  the  north, 
over  an  undulating  country,  and  through  a  long  lane, 
which  was  part  of  the  farm. 

"The  house  stood  about  fifty  yards  from  the  road,  and 
presented  a  rather  picturesque  appearance,  the  lawn 
being  surrounded  by  a  fence,  outside  of  which  and  in 
front  of  the  house  a  circular  lawn  had  been  laid  out, 
around  which  was  the  carriage  drive. 

"  There  were  four  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  of  the 
house,  and  two  in  the  main  building  up-stairs,  and  two 
additional  rooms  which  had  been  added,  but  were  so 
situated  that  an  accurate  description  would  be  hard  to 
give,  and  perhaps  harder  to  understand  after  giving. 

"  The  house  faced  nearly  east,  and  had  a  porch  up-  and 
down-stairs,  and  on  the  north  side  a  gallery.  There 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  213 

were  the  usual  out-houses,  and  a  feature  of  the  place 
was  the  spring,  which  was  situated  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  upon  which  the  house  stood.  Water  was  supplied 
from  this  spring  by  means  of  a  ram-pump  with  pipes. 
Around  the  spring  was  a  growth  of  very  fine  walnut- 
and  chestnut-trees,  which  made  it  a  very  cool  retreat 
during  the  warm  days  of  summer.  A  large  orchard  of 
apples,  plums,  and  peaches  was  immediately  in  the  rear 
of  the  residence.  Between  the  farm  and  the  road 
which  led  from  Lynchburg  to  Amherst  Court-House,  a 
distance  of  about  two  miles,  was  a  thick  growth  of 
woods,  consisting  principally  of  chestnut-trees. 

"  The  whole  face  of  the  country  consisted  of  hills  and 
dales,  and  was  rather  rugged ;  the  soil  rather  poor, 
probably  having  been  exhausted  by  long  cultivation. 
The  nearest  house  was  fully  a  mile  distant,  that  section 
of  country  being  but  sparsely  settled." 

Their  painful  journey  thitherward  ended,  just  imagine 
what  it  must  have  been  to  these  suffering  men  to  arrive 
at  such  a  haven  of  rest ! — a  "  refuge"  indeed.  Think  of 
the  cool,  breezy  chambers,  clean  and  white  and  fragrant, 
like  home,  of  the  tender  ministry  of  that  gentle  woman, 
whose  loving  service  was  theirs  to  command,  of  the 
country  food,  of  the  cool,  sparkling  water  from  the 
spring  under  the  oaks,  held  to  fevered  lips  by  ever-ready 
hands,  while  the  favored  patients  drank  at  the  same 
time  draughts  of  sympathy  from  eyes  whose  kindly 
glances  fell  upon  the  humblest  as  upon  their  very  own. 
The  excellence  and  faithfulness  of  the  nursing  is  fully 
proved  by  the  fact  that  while  three  or  four  hundred 
patients  were  sent  to  this  blessed  "Refuge,"  no  mor 
tality  occurred  among  the  soldiers,  the  only  death  being 
that  of  a  little  son  of  Captain  Laurence  Nichols,  who 
had  fallen  in  battle  at  Gaines's  Mill,  and  whose  widow 
found  in  this  lovely,  hospitable  home  a  temporary  rest- 


214  MEMORIES. 

ing-place  for  the  body  of  her  gallant  husband,  and  shel 
ter  for  herself  and  child,  a  lovely  boy  of  three  years,  who 
was  thence  transferred  to  the  arms  of  the  Good  Shep 
herd.  Sad,  indeed,  were  the  hearts  of  the  little  band  of 
women  gathered  at  the  "  Refuge." 

The  trials  of  the  bereaved  wife  and  mother  were  in 
deed  sore  and  hard  to  be  borne,  but  she  could  go  to  the 
graves  of  her -dead  and  there  pray  for  faith  to  look  up 
ward,  where  she  knew  her  treasures  were  safe  for  time 
and  for  eternity.  Under  the  same  roof  the  wife  of 
General  Francis  T.  Nichols  passed  days  and  nights  of 
agonizing  suspense.  Her  husband  was  wounded  and  a 
prisoner.  She  knew  he  had  suffered  amputation  of  an 
arm,  but  could  learn  nothing  more.  Humors  were  fear 
ful  enough  to  distress  the  young  wife,  whose  trembling 
heart  was  filled  with  foreboding.  Every  few  days  re 
ports  that  seemed  true  startled  her, — he  was  dead. 
Alas!  it  might  be  true,  for  how  could  he  live  in  the 
midst  of  enemies  to  whom  his  high  spirit  would  not 
bend,  wounded,  suffering,  deprived  of  the  loving  care 
for  which  he  pined?  Again,  he  had  tried  to  escape  in 
the  garb  of  a  peddler,  and  had  been  taken  up  as  a  spy 
(which  no  one  who  knew  him  believed).  In  that  sad 
household  Mrs.  CaldwelPs  duties  became  onerous  and 
multifarious  enough  to  appall  one  less  stout-hearted  or 
less  devoted  to  the  cause.  The  inmates  of  the  dwelling 
looked  to  her  for  sympathy,  advice,  nursing,  and  all 
kinds  of  attention,  as  well  as  for  the  comfort  which 
could  come  only  by  superexcellent  housekeeping.  And 
all  this  was  done,  and  well  done,  by  one  woman,  in 
spired  by  supreme  devotion  to  the  Confederate  cause  and 
its  defenders.  Truly  such  a  woman  deserves  to  be  im 
mortalized,  to  live  in  history  long  after  the  hearts  that 
now  enshrine  her  image  shall  have  ceased  to  beat. 

Later,  larger  hospital   accommodation   having  been 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  215 

provided,  it  became  difficult  to  obtain  permission  for 
private  soldiers  to  leave  the  wards  to  which  they  had 
been  assigned. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Edwards  Caldwell  then  resolved  to 
fill  up  the  "  Refuge"  with  their  own  friends  among  the 
officers,  saying  to  each  other,  "  We  will  do  all  the  good 
we  can,  and  will  agree  to  sustain  each  other  in  any 
course  without  consulting."  Very  sick  and  very  badly- 
wounded  patients  were  now  sent  to  Mrs.  Caldwell.  In 
fact,  cases  which  were  considered  hopeless,  but  linger 
ing,  were  despatched  from  the  hospital  to  the  "Ref 
uge"  to  die,  but  not  one  of  them  did  what  was  expected 
of  him.  The  efforts  of  Mrs.  Caldwell  were  blessed  of 
God,  and  her  patients,  without  exception,  improved. 
One  of  these  was  Lawson  Lewis  Davis,  of  New  Orleans, 
wounded  at  Frazier's  Mills,  near  Richmond.  He  was 
suffering  from  a  terrible  wound,  the  cap  of  the  shoulder 
having  been  removed.  He  suffered  for  a  whole  year 
before  recovering.  A  still  more  remarkable  case  was 
that  of  Captain  Charles  Knowlton,  Tenth  Louisiana 
Regiment.  He  was  wounded  in  the  knee  in  November, 
1863,  and  was  at  once  invited  to  the  "Refuge,"  but, 
having  recession  of  the  knee,  was  compelled  to  remain 
under  surgical  treatment  until  April,  1864,  when  he  was 
sent  to  Mrs.  Caldwell,  and  remained  nine  months  more 
under  her  care.  An  order  had  been  issued  that  in  all 
such  cases  amputation  should  be  performed,  but  Dr. 
Reid,  of  Richmond,  his  attendant  surgeon,  decided  to 
attempt  to  save  the  limb,  and  was  successful.  Out  of 
many  cases  of  the  kind,  this  was  the  only  one  recorded 
where  amputation  was  avoided  and  the  patient's  life 
was  saved. 

Captain  Knowlton  now  resides  near  Hopevilla,  East 
Baton  Rouge,  Louisiana,  is  married,  and  has  two  chil 
dren.  Another  desperate  case  was  that  of  John  McCor- 


216  MEMORIES. 

mick,  from  whose  leg  nearly  all  the  bones  were  removed, 
but  who  also  recovered. 

There  were,  besides,  three  men  sick  of  fever  and 
dysentery,  desperately  ill,  considered  hopeless  when 
sent  to  the  "Refuge,"  but  who  all  recovered.  This  is 
certainly  a  remarkable  record,  and  one  to  be  proud  of. 
Among  the  patients  was  that  noble  patriot,  Colonel 
Alcibiades  de  Blanc,  of  St.  Martin's  Parish,  Louisiana, 
of  whom  Lousianians  proudly  relate  that  he  refused  to 
be  made  a  brigadier-general,  saying  he  did  not  feel 
competent  to  fill  such  a  position,  and  was  content  to 
serve  his  country  as  a  private  soldier,  feeling  that  no 
position  could  be  more  honorable. 

Of  Company  K,  Eighth  Louisiana,  and  Company  H, 
Seventh  Louisiana,  nearly  all  the  sick  and  wounded  en 
joyed,  at  one  time  or  another  during  the  war,  the  hos 
pitalities  of  the  "  Refbge."  General  Hays  was  a  personal 
friend  and  honored  guest.  Henry  Weir  Baker  there 
recovered  from  typhoid  fever.  This  gentleman  was  a 
member  of  Washington  Artillery,  a  distinction  which  is 
enough  of  itself,  without  an  added  word  of  praise.  He 
is  now  residing  in  New  Orleans,  a  successful  journalist, 
and  has  been  untiring  in  his  patriotic  efforts  to  develop 
the  splendid  resources  of  Louisiana.  Fred  Washington, 
of  New  Orleans,  was  also  saved  to  his  country  by  the 
kindly  attentions  of  Mrs.  Caldwell.  He  also  is  an  hon 
ored  citizen  of  New  Orleans,  engaged  as  a  journalist, 
and  is  one  of  the  faithful  few  who  do  not  forget. 

He  is  an  active  member  of  the  association  A.  N.  Ya., 
always  "  to  the  fore"  when  opportunities  occur  to  honor 
the  dead  Confederates  or  to  succor  the  living. 

Of  the  hundreds  who  now  live  to  remember  with  liveli 
est  gratitude  the  "Refuge"  they  once  found  from  the  hor 
rors  and  toils  and  pains  of  battle,  and  the  gentle  hostess 
who  so  unweariedly  ministered  to  them,  I  can  gather  only 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  217 

a  few  names  besides  those  already  mentioned, — those 
of  Lieutenant  Brooks,  Seventh  Louisiana;  Dr.  Henry 

Larreux, ;  Lieutenant  Henri  Puisson,  Tenth 

Louisiana. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Caldwell  were  New  Orleans  people. 
Their  temporary  home  in  Virginia  was  taken  with  the 
definite  object  in  view  of  offering  a  "refuge"  to  sick 
and  wounded  Louisiana  soldiers.  She  is,  of  course, 
proud  of  its  "record"  and  her  own,  but  simply  says  in 
her  letter  to  me,  "  On  opening  the  *  Kefuge'  (Mr.  John 
Edwards  Caldwell  said  to  his  wife)  we  will  each  do  all 
we  find  to  do,  and  all  we  can  do,  without  consulting  or 
telling  each  other  what  we  do.  And  this  we  carried  out." 

While  seeking  materials  for  this  sketch,  I  have  inter 
viewed  several  of  the  veterans  who  were  in  Virginia  her 
guests  and  patients.  I  had  but  to  mention  her  name 
to  ask,  "Do  you  know  Mrs.  Caldwell,  of  the  'Kefuge?'" 
and  forthwith  the  eyes  of  stern  men  grew  misty,  and 
an  indescribable  look  brightened  careworn  faces,  the  look 
I  know  so  well  and  have  learned  to  think  more  beauti 
ful  than  "  any  light  that  falls  on  land  or  sea."  "  Know 
her!  Why,  but  for  her  I  must  have  died."  Thus  to 
become  of  blessed  memory  is  worth  a  lifetime  of  toil 
and  self-devotion.  And  yet  the  cause  and  its  defenders 
were  worth  it  all,  and  more.  As  far  as  the  wounded  and 
sick  soldiers  are  concerned,  I  am  sure  that  Mrs.  Caldwell, 
equally  with  myself  and  all  others,  who  during  the  war 
were  so  blessed  as  to  be  permitted  to  minister  to  them, 
will  be  willing  to  declare  that  magnificent  as  were  their 
brave  deeds,  their  patient  endurance  seemed  almost  "  the 
better  part  of  valor." 

There  is  one  bright,  shining  record  of  a  patriotic  and 

tireless  woman  which  remains  undimmed  when  placed 

beside  that  of  the  most  devoted  of  Confederate  women  : 

I  refer  to  Mrs.  Kose  Kooney,  of  Company  K,  Fifteenth 

K  19 


218  MEMORIES. 

Louisiana  Ecgiment,  who  left  New  Orleans  in  June, 
1861,  and  never  deserted  the  "  b'ys"  for  a  day  until  the 
surrender. 

She  was  no  hanger-on  about  camp,  but  in  everything 
but  actual  fighting  was  as  useful  as  any  of  the  boys  she 
loved  with  all  her  big,  warm,  Irish  heart,  and  served  with 
the  undaunted  bravery  which  led  her  to  risk  the  dangers 
of  every  battle-field  where  the  regiment  was  engaged, 
unheeding  the  zip  of  the  minies,  the  shock  of  shells,  or 
the  horrible  havoc  made  by  the  solid  shot,  so  that  she 
might  give  timely  succor  to  the  wounded  or  comfort  the 
dying.  When  in  camp  she  looked  after  the  comfort 
of  the  regiment,  both  sick  and  well,  and  many  a  one 
escaped  being  sent  to  the  hospital  because  Rose  attended 
to  him  so  well.  She  managed  by  some  means  to  keep 
on  hand  a  stock  of  real  coffee,  paying  at  times  thirty- 
five  dollars  per  pound  for  it.  The  surrender  almost 
broke  her  heart.  Her  defiant  ways  caused  her  to  be 
taken  prisoner.  I  will  give  in  her  own  words  an 
account  of  what  followed. 

"  Sure,  the  Yankees  took  me  prisoner  along  with  the 
rest.  The  next  day,  when  they  were  changing  the  camps 
to  fix  up  for  the  wounded,  I  asked  them  what  would 
they  do  with  me.  They  tould  me  to  c  go  to  the  divil.'  I 
tould  them,  '  I've  been  long  enough  in  his  company ;  I'd 
c!;0ose  something  better.'  I  then  asked  them  where  any 
Confederates  lived.  They  tould  me  about  three  miles 
through  the  woods.  On  my  way  I  met  some  Yankees. 
They  asked  me,  *  What  have  you  in  that  bag?'  I  said, 
'  Some  rags  of  my  own.'  I  had  a  lot  of  rags  on  the  top,  but 
six  new  dresses  at  the  bottom ;  and  sure  I  got  off  with 
them  all.  Then  they  asked  me  if  I  had  any  money.  I 
said  no ;  but  in  my  stocking  I  had  two  hundred  dollars 
in  Confederate  money.  One  of  the  Yankees,  a  poor  divil 
of  a  private  soldier,  handed  to  me  three  twenty-five  cents 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  219 

of  Yankee  money.  I  said  to  him, '  Sure,  you  must  be  an 
Irishman.'  '  Yes/  said  he.  I  then  went  on  till  I  got  to  the 
house.  Mrs.  Crump  and  her  sister  were  in  the  yard,  and 
about  twenty  negro  women — no  men.  I  had  not  a  bite 
for  two  days,  nor  any  water,  so  I  began  to  cry  from 
weakness.  Mrs.  Crump  said,  '  Don't  cry,  you  are  among 
friends.'  She  then  gave  me  plenty  to  eat, — hot  hoe-cake 
and  buttermilk.  I  stayed  there  fifteen  days,  superintend 
ing  the  cooking  for  the  sick  and  wounded  men.  One- 
half  of  the  house  was  full  of  Confederates,  and  the  other 
of  Yankees.  They  then  brought  us  to  Burkesville,  where 
all  the  Yankees  were  gathered  together.  There  was  an 
ould  doctor  there,  and  he  began  to  curse  me,  and  to  talk 
about  all  we  had  done  to  their  prisoners.  I  tould  him, 
'  And  what  have  you  to  say  to  what  you  done  to  our 
poor  fellows?'  He  tould  me  to  shut  up,  and  sure  I  did. 
They  asked  me  fifty  questions  after,  and  I  never  opened 
me  mouth.  The  next  day  was  the  day  when  all  the  Con 
federate  flags  came  to  Petersburg.  I  had  some  papers 
in  my  pocket  that  would  have  done  harrum  to  some 
people,  so  I  chewed  them  all  up  and  ate  them,  but  I 
wouldn't  take  the  oath,  and  I  never  did  take  it.  The 
flags  were  brought  in  on  dirt-cars,  and  as  they  passed 
the  Federal  camps  them  Yankees  would  unfurl  them  and 
shake  them  about  to  show  them.  My  journey  from 
Burkesville  to  Petersburg  was  from  eleven  in  the  morn 
ing  till  eleven  at  night,  and  I  sitting  on  my  bundle  all 
the  way.  The  Yankee  soldiers  in  the  car  were  cursing 
me,  and  calling  me  a  damn  rebel,  and  more  ugly  talk.  I 
said,  '  Mabbe  some  of  you  has  got  a  mother  or  wife  ;  if 
so,  you'll  show  some  respect  for  me.'  Then  they  were 
quiet.  I  had  to  walk  three  miles  to  Captain  Buckner's 
headquarters.  The  family  were  in  a  house  near  the 
battle-ground,  but  the  door  was  shut,  and  I  didn't  know 
who  was  inside,  and  I  couldn't  see  any  light.  I  sat  down 


220  MEMORIES. 

on  the  porch,  and  thought  I  would  have  to  stay  there  all 
night.  After  a  while  I  saw  a  light  coming  from  under 
the  door,  and  so  I  knocked ;  when  the  door  was  opened 
and  they  saw  who  it  was,  they  were  all  delighted  to  see 
me,  because  they  were  afraid  I  was  dead.  I  wanted  to  go 
to  Kichmond,  but  would  not  go  on  a  Yankee  transporta 
tion.  "When  the  brigade  came  down,  I  cried  me  heart 
out  because  I  was  not  let  go  on  with  them.  I  stayed 
three  months  with  Mrs.  Cloyd,  and  then  Mayor  Rawle 
sent  me  forty  dollars  and  fifty  more  if  I  needed  it,  and 
that  brought  me  home  to  New  Orleans." 

Mrs.  Kooney  is  still  cared  for  and  cherished  by  the 
veterans  of  Louisiana.  At  the  Soldiers'  Home  she 
holds  the  position  of  matron,  and  her  little  room  is  a 
shrine  never  neglected  by  visitors  to  "  Camp  Nichols." 

Upon  every  occasion  when  the  association  of  A.  N. 
Ya.  appear  as  an  association,  Mrs.  Kooney  is  with  them, 
an  honored  and  honorary  member.  Neatly  dressed, 
her  cap  of  the  real  Irish  pattern  surmounting  her  face, 
beaming  with  pride  in  "  the  b'ys" 

In  fiery  patriotism,  unfaltering  devotion,  defiant  cour 
age  the  women  of  New  Orleans  had  no  rival,  save  the 
women  of  Baltimore.  I  know  no  other  place  where 
the  fiery  furnace  was  so  hot,  the  martyrdom  so  general 
or  so  severe.  In  both  instances  the  iron  hand  of  des 
potism  failed  to  crush  or  subdue. 

Women  continued  to  give  aid  and  comfort  to  Con 
federate  soldiers  in  hospital  and  prison,  using  every  art 
they  possessed  to  accomplish  their  ends.  The  sick  were 
nursed  and  fed  and  comforted.  Prisoners  were  assisted 
to  escape,  concealed  until  they  could  be  spirited  away, 
while  their  fair  friends  bravely  faced  and  dared  the  con 
sequences  of  discovery,  never  hesitating  to  avow  their 
partisanship,  crying,  "  If  this  be  treason,  make  the  most 
of  it."  A  dozen  arrests  among  these  devotees  did  no 


CONFEDERATE    WOMEN.  221 

good,  for  their  name  was  legion.  Every  house  was  a 
nest  of  "  treason  ;"  for  here  dwelt  the  women  whose  best 
beloved  were  Confederate  soldiers. 

And  when  the  end  came,  when  the  bravest  soldiers 
returned,  wretched  and  despairing,  even  weeping  bitter 
tears  within  the  faithful  arms  that  sheltered  them,  the 
faces  which  bent  above  them  still  bravely  smiled.  Be 
loved  voices  whispered  of  encouragement  and  hope, 
patient  hearts  assumed  burdens  under  which  men  fainted 
and  failed. 

From  the  root  of  patriotism,  deeply  buried  in  the 
hearts  of  Southern  women,  sprung  a  new  and  vigorous 
growth.  Its  tendrils  overspread  and  concealed  desolate 
places ;  the  breath  of  its  flowers  filled  all  the  land,  steal 
ing  over  the  senses  like  an  invigorating  breeze. 

"  There  is  life  in  the  old  land  yet,"  said  men  to  each 
other.  Let  us  cherish  and  develop  it.  And  so,  once 
more  each  lifted  his  heavy  burden,  and  finding  it  unex 
pectedly  lightened,  turned  to  find  at  his  side,  no  longer 
a  helpless  clinging  form  which  should  hamper  his  every 
step,  but  a  true  woman,  strong  in  the  love  which  defied 
discouragement,  "  with  a  heart  for  any  fate,"  a  helpmeet, 
indeed,  who  hereafter  would  allow  no  burden  to  remain 
unshared. 

Thus  faithful  to  the  living,  the  women  of  the  South 
never  forgot  their  dead  heroes.  At  first  it  was  impossi 
ble  to  do  more  than  to  "  keep  green"  their  sacred  graves, 
or  to  deposit  thereon  a  few  simple  flowers,  but  the 
earliest  rays  of  the  sun  of  prosperity  fell  upon  many 
a  "  storied  urn  and  animated  bust,"  raised  by  tireless 
love  and  self-sacrifice,  to  mark  "the  bivouac  of  the 
dead."  In  connection  with  one  of  these,  erected  by 
the  ladies  of  New  Orleans,  in  Greenwood  Cemetery,  I 
know  an  anecdote  which  has  always  seemed  to  me  par 
ticularly  beautiful  and  touching,  as  illustrative  of  an 

19* 


222  MEMORIES. 

exquisite  sentiment  which  could  have  had  its  birth  only 
in  the  heart  of  a  true  and  tender  woman.  After  the 
removal  of  the  bones  of  the  Confederate  soldiers,  who 
had  died  in  and  about  New  Orleans,  from  their  lowly 
graves  to  their  last  resting-place,  under  their  grand  and 
beautiful  monument,  many  people  repaired  thither  as 
to  a  shrine.  Among  them  appeared  one  evening  Mrs. 

H ,  a  sister  of  the  gallant  and  ever-lamented  Major 

Nelligan,  of  the  First  Louisiana.  After  viewing  the 

monument,  Mrs.  H strolled  over  among  the  graves, 

and  there  came  upon  a  few  bones  of  Confederate  sol 
diers,  which  had  been  accidentally  left  upon  the  ground. 

They  seemed  to  her  so  precious,  so  sacred,  that  they 
must  have  sepulchre;  but  how  should  she  accomplish 
this  end  ?  Nothing  that  she  had  or  could  get,  in  short, 
nothing  that  had  been  used  would  do.  Instantly  she 
sought  the  first  store  where  a  piece  of  new  linen  could  be 
bought ;  returning  with  it,  she  reverently  laid  the  bones 
within  it,  and,  without  speaking  a  word  to  any  one  of 
her  intentions,  buried  them  in  the  garden  at  home,  where 
they  now  lie. 

I  have  not  yet  told  all  I  know  about  Confederate 
women,  nor  even  the  half,  nor  is  it  needful  that  I  should. 
While  recounting  their  history  to  future  generations, 
Fame  will  put  by  her  brazen  trumpet,  yet  sing  their 
praises  in  tones  so  sweet  and  clear  that  all  the  world 
shall  hear  and  ^on^er  and  admire. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE   BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS. 

THESE  facts  were  related  to  me  by  a  Virginia  soldier, 
and  woven  by  me  into  a  story  for  the  Southern  Bivouac. 

On  the  night  of  May  11,  1864,  Lee  had  withdrawn  his 
forces  from  a  salient  point  called  the  "  Horseshoe,"  in 
consequence  of  a  retrograde  or  flank  movement  of  the 
enemy  opposite  that  point.  A  battery  of  artillery,  con 
sisting  of  four  companies,  which  was  to  have  occupied 
that  point,  was  removed  some  two  miles  back.  At  early 
dawn,  word  was  brought  that  Grant's  forces  had  again 
advanced,  and  the  artillery  was  ordered  to  return  with 
all  speed.  Faster  and  faster  they  advanced  until  they 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  in  the  very  toe  of  the  Horse 
shoe,  to  find  themselves  in  the  jaws  of  the  enemy.  It 
fell  to  the  lot  of  a  non-commissioned  officer  of  Captain 
W.  P.  Carter's  Battery  to  prepare  the  ammunition.  He 
first  cut  the  fuse  for  one  second's  time.  After  preparing 
several  shells  and  receiving  no  word  from  his  general  he 
made  ready  several  charges  of  canister,  knowing  the 
enemy  to  be  close  at  hand.  Still  nobody  came  for  the 
ammunition.  He  observed  next  that  the  drivers  of  the 
limber-chest  had  dismounted  and  left  their  horses,  and 
the  horses  being  without  a  driver,  backed  the  wheels 
of  the  limber  over  the  ammunition.  To  prevent  dam 
age,  he  seized  the  off-leader  by  the  bridle,  turning  them 
back  to  a  front  position.  While  doing  this,  he  dis 
tinctly  heard  the  minie-balls  crashing  through  the  bones 

223 


224  MEMORIES. 

of  the  horses.  They  did  not  fall  at  once,  however, 
and  he  had  just  gotten  them  to  a  front  position,  when  a 
forcible  blow  upon  the  right  shoulder,  made  by  the 
enemy's  color-bearer  with  the  point  of  his  staff,  showed 
him  that  they  were  upon  him.  There  was  no  time  to 
say  "good-morning,"  so  he  beat  a  hasty  retreat  around 
his  limber,  "  Sauve  que  peut"  He  had  scarcely  com 
menced  to  run  when  he  felt  a  heavy  blow  about  the 
middle  of  his  back.  His  thought  was,  "  Can  that  color- 
bearer  have  repeated  his  blow,  or  am  I  struck  by  a  ball, 
which  has  deadened  the  sense  of  feeling?"  There  being 
no  flow  of  blood,  however,  he  concluded  he  was  not 
much  hurt.  After  a  run  of  forty  yards  he  came  to  the 
dry  bed  of  a  stream  between  two  hills.  Here  he  paused 
to  reconnoitre.  The  morning  fog  and  the  smoke  of  battle 
obscured  the  view,  except  close  to  the  ground.  Crouch 
ing  on  all-fours,  he  peered  below  the  cloud  of  smoke  to 
ward  the  crest  of  the  hill  where  the  battery  was.  He 
soon  saw  that  the  case  was  hopeless,  and  the  battery  in 
possession  of  the  enemy.  Looking  to  the  left,  he  read  in 
the  anxious  countenance  of  an  aide-de-camp  on  horse 
back  that  matters  at  that  point  were  in  a  desperate  case. 
Eunning  up  the  bed  of  the  stream,  he  reached  the  shelter 
of  the  woods  on  his  left.  So  far  he  had  run  parallel  to 
the  line  of  battle.  When  well  in  the  woods,  turning  at 
right  angles,  it  seemed  that  he  had  made  his  escape. 
Meeting  just  then  with  an  officer  of  the  battery  (the 
only  one  who  escaped)  and  several  comrades,  a  brief 
consultation  was  held,  suddenly  cut  short  by  a  continu 
ous  roar  of  musketry  in  the  rear  and  near  the  heel  of 
the  Horseshoe,  showing  that  the  party  were  in  danger 
of  being  enclosed  and  cut  off  within  the  circle.  The 
consultation  was  summarily  ended,  and  flight  again  re 
sumed.  This  time  they  ran  well  out  of  the  Horseshoe 
and  out  of  danger,  stopping  not  until  they  met  Lee's 


BATTLE  OF  THE    WILDERNESS.  225 

reinforcements  going  to  the  front.  Here,  from  a  point 
of  safety,  they  could  hear  war  holding  high  revelry  in 
the  bottom  below.  Now,  for  the  first  time  the  soldier 
took  occasion  to  examine  his  knapsack.  A  minie-ball 
had  entered  the  lower  part,  passing  through  sixteen  folds 
of  tent-cloth,  many  folds  of  a  blanket,  riddling  several 
articles  of  underwear,  and  finally  burying  itself  in  a 
small  Bible.  Such  was  its  force  that  not  a  leaf  from 
Revelations  to  Genesis  remained  without  impress  of  the 
ball,  and  half  the  leaves  were  actually  penetrated. 

Just  at  this  time  he  was  overjoyed  to  see  his  brother 
(about  whom  he  had  been  painfully  anxious)  returning 
to  the  rear  with  a  company  of  the  Richmond  Howitzers, 
who,  having  spent  all  their  ammunition,  came  to  re 
plenish  their  chests.  This  young  man  had  been  color- 
bearer  of  the  company,  and  when  the  battery  first 
reached  the  hill,  had  turned  to  the  woods  on  his  left  to  tie 
his  horse.  Hearing  a  wild  yell,  which  he  supposed  to  be 
the  battle-cry  of  the  Confederates,  he  joined  lustily  in  the 
shout  and  rushed  forward  bearing  his  colors.  The  fog  and 
smoke  concealing  from  him  the  true  state  of  affairs,  it 
was  a  terrible  shock  to  see,  suddenly,  the  enemy's  color 
floating  from  the  battery.  Realizing  for  the  first  time 
that  all  was  lost,  he  hastily  lowered  his  flag  between  the 
chests  of  a  caisson,  and,  tearing  off  the  colors,  thrust  them 
into  his  bosom,  throwing  the  staff  away.  ^He  then  ran 
into  tho  woods  and  up  the  lines,  where  he  came  upon  a 
company  of  the  Richmond  Howitzers,  and  served  with 
them  until  their  ammunition  was  exhausted. 

A  remarkable  circumstance  connected  with  the  above 
incident  was  the  fact  that,  during  the  confusion  and 
haste  following  the  order  for  the  hasty  march,  the 
brothers  lost  sight  of  each  other,  and  the  elder  (who 
bore  the  flag)  was  compelled  to  gallop  to  the  front, 
leaving  the  tent-cloth  and  blankets,  which  usually  were 
P 


226  MEMORIES. 

included  in  the  roll  behind  the  saddle,  to  be  carried  in 
the  other's  knapsack.  The  first  thought  of  the  younger 
was  impatience  at  the  unusual  burden  he  had  to  cany 
into  battle,  but  reflection  brought  with  it  a  feeling  (per 
haps  a  premonition),  "It  is  all  right  and  perhaps  the 
means  of  saving  my  life."  In  less  than  half  an  hour  it 
had  proved  indeed  a  blessing  in  disguise. 

The  owner  of  the  Bible,  then  a  youth  of  nineteen,  now 
a  minister  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  cherishes 
the  book  and  the  minie-ball,  not  only  as  a  memento  of 
the  war,  but  with  feelings  of  deepest  gratitude,  which 
find  appropriate  expression  in  the  consecration  of  his 
life  to  Him  who  "  protected  his  head  in  the  day  of 
battle."  It  is  his  earnest  hope  that  he  may,  by  the 
blessing  of  God,  so  expound  the  teaching  of  that  blessed 
Book  as  to  make  it  a  means  of  salvation  to  many  souls. 


QHAPTER    IX. 

FENNER'S   LOUISIANA   BATTERY. 

DEAR  friends,  when  you  read  the  caption  of  this  page 
in  my  book  of  "  Memories,"  do  not  accuse  me  in  your 
hearts  of  favoritism.  Of  all  soldiers  who  wore  the 
gray,  only  one  was  nearer  than  others  to  my  heart.  I 
took  no  special  pride  in  one  organization  above  others, 
save  in  the  command  to  which  my  husband  belonged. 
Surely  this  is  quite  natural. 

Who  does  not  remember  the  epidemic  of  blue  cock 
ades  which  broke  out  in  New  Orleans  during  the  winter 
of  1860  and  1861,  and  raged  violently  throughout  the 
whole  city?  The  little  blue  cockade,  with  its  pelican 
button  in  the  centre  and  its  two  small  streamers,  was 
the  distinguishing  mark  of  the  "Secessionist." 

By  none  was  it  more  universally  and  proudly  worn 
than  by  the  youth  and  young  men,  who,  in  April,  1861, 
discarded  it  with  their  citizen's  dress  and  began  "  the 
wearing  of  the  gray,"  which  they  have  helped  to  make 
a  garb  of  honor  and  a  glory  forever. 

When  the  Dreaux  Battalion  embarked  for  Pensacola,  it 
was  with  a  definite  purpose  in  view,  and  a  certain  con 
viction  that  they  would  at  once  meet  and  vanquish  the 
enemy.  Their  prowess  was  to  teach  the  Yankee  a  les 
son  and  to  settle  matters  inside  of  sixty  days.  They 
fully  expected  to  fight,  and  were  eager  to  begin.  Day 
after  day,  night  after  night,  they  momentarily  expected 
an  assault  upon  Fort  Pickens.  But  they  did  not  expect 
to  be  set  at  the  hard  duty  of  digging  and  wheeling  sand 

227 


228  MEMORIES. 

hour  after  hour,  and  throwing  up  intrenchments  under 
a  burning  sun. 

Then  the  irksomeness  of  being  under  military  disci 
pline,  which  at  first  was  frequently  infringed.  For  in 
stance,  a  party  of  Orleans  Cadets  overstayed  their  leave 
of  absence  an  hour  or  two ;  "  upon  our  return  we  found 
ourselves  locked  up  in  the  guard-house  for  four  hours 
and  a  half." 

Here  is  an  account  of  one  of  the  monotonous  days, 
transcribed  from  a  letter  of  one  of  the  Orleans  Cadets, 
a  boy  who  had  been  used  at  home  to  take  his  coffee  be 
fore  rising,  a  late,  comfortable  breakfast,  and  to  walk 
down-town  at  his  leisure  on  the  shady  side  of  the  street, 
clad  in  the  cool,  white  linen  suit  then  so  universally 
worn :  "  We  get  up  at  five  o'clock  to  attend  roll-call ; 
at  6.30  get  our  coffee  and  our  breakfast,  which  con 
sists  of  crackers  and  salt  pork;  at  7.30,  back  to  our 
tents  and  pack  our  knapsack,  rub  our  guns,  and  get 
ready  for  parade  at  nine  o'clock. 

"  We  are  now  drilling  at  light  infantry  tactics  (Har- 
dee's),  which  occupies  until  eleven.  We  then  wash  our 
doilies,  bring  wood  for  the  cook,  also  water  and  various 
other  things ;  dine  at  two,  and  again  drill  at  four  until 
dark  ;  get  our  supper  at  seven  ;  lie  around  until  roll-call 
at  nine ;  afterward  go  to  bed  to  dream  of  home. 

"  General  Bragg  has  just  sent  us  word  that  we  are  to 
be  exempt  from  hard  labor  at  present." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  men  were  confined 
to  the  rations  here  mentioned.  All  had  money  and 
could  buy  additional  food ;  most  of  the  messes  had 
negro  servants,  who  were  excellent  cooks,  and  boxes  of 
goodies  arrived  continually  from  home.  But,  as  I  said 
before,  the  strict  discipline,  combined  with  deprivation 
of  the  glorious  fighting  in  which  they  had  expected  to 
participate,  was  terribly  irksome. 


FENNER'S  LOUISIANA    BATTERY.  229 

It  was  a  most  welcome  order  which  transferred  them 
to  Virginia,  and  to  the  shady  and  delightful  camping- 
ground  which  I  have  described  in  a  former  article 
(Introductory).  An  order  to  join  the  forces  about  to 
engage  in  the  battle  of  Manassas  was  countermanded 
on  account  of  a  movement  of  the  enemy  which  resulted 
in  the  "affair"  at  "Bethel  Church."  They  remained 
upon  the  Peninsula  under  General  McGruder,  who  was 
successfully  holding  McClellan  in  check  by  appearing  at 
every  point  assailed  by  the  Federals. 

"The  forces  under  General  McGruder  were  the  only 
obstacle  in  McClellan's  road  to  Richmond. 

"Under  these  circumstances,  McGruder,  with  superb 
rashness,  threw  out  his  whole  force  as  skirmishers,  along 
a  line  of  nine  or  ten  miles. 

"The  Dreaux  Battalion  bore  a  conspicuous  part  in 
all  the  operations  of  this  campaign."  Later,  the  bat 
talion  went  into  winter  quarters. 

Because  I  wish  to  contrast  the  condition  of  these 
men  during  the  first  part  of  their  service  and  when, 
later,  they  encountered  inconceivable  hardships  and 
deprivations,  I  will  here  give  entire  a  letter  from  one 
of  the  battalion,  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal,  describ 
ing  the  "  house-warming"  which  was  given  when  they 
moved  into  winter  quarters  on  the  Peninsula : 

"  CAMP  KIGHTOR,  November  29,  1861. 

"  I  received  yours  of  the  14th  a  few  days  since,  and 
the  20th  yesterday,  both  of  which  I  will  answer  in  one. 
The  half-barrel  of  sugar  was  received  long  since,  as  you 
will  see  by  looking  over  my  letter  to  you  about  three 
weeks  ago.  The  sugar  came  through  in  good  order, 
also  the  white  sugar,  medicine,  and  coffee;  the  latter 
we  use  sparingly,  mixing  it  with  wheat, — one-third  coffee 
and  two-thirds  wheat.  The  wheat  does  not  seem  to 

20 


230  MEMORIES. 

change  the  flavor  in  the  least.  Sweet  potatoes  are  also 
used  in  camp  in  place  of  coffee, — you  dry  it,  then  parch 
and  grind  it;  we  have  not  tried  that  method  yet  on  ac 
count  of  the  scarcity  of  potatoes.  AH  our  cabins  are 
finished  at  last ;  the  tents  are  used  no  more  to  sleep  in. 
Our  house-warming  has  taken  place.  We  made  about 
ten  gallons  of  egg-nog  for  the  occasion  ;  we  used  about 
six  dozen  eggs.  Walton's  mess  was  over,  and  a  good 
many  from  the  rifles ;  various  members  from  both  com 
panies  of  the  guards.  Also  the  major,  doctor,  adjutant, 
and  Lieutenant  Dunn,  Grevot  Guards.  They  say  it  was 
the  best  nog  they  ever  drank;  the  house  was  crowded. 
The  nog  gave  out,  and  we  had  to  produce  the  jug.  If 
we  had  had  our  sick  messmate  from  Williamsburg,  we 
would  have  had  noise  (Noyes)  all  night,  but  as  it  was 
it  only  lasted  until  one  o'clock.  Everybody  in  camp 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  make  more  noise  than  his  neigh 
bor.  Beard  told  us  next  day  that  it  was  a  very  well- 
conducted  affair,  that  everything  passed  off  so  quietly 
with  so  much  nog  as  that.  He  evidently  went  to  bed 
early  after  he  left  us.  1  saw  Posey  yesterday,  he  was 
looking  badly,  seeming  to  have  been  troubled  with  the 
chills  for  some  time.  Since  it  has  become  so  cold  we 
have  had  to  take  the  cook  in  the  house,  which  makes 
eleven.  This  boy  outsnores  creation,  beating  anything 
you  ever  heard  ;  he  woke  me  up  last  night,  and  I  thought 
it  was  the  dog  Cadet  barking  outside  at  the  door. 

"  If  you  get  this  before  ma  sends  off  the  expected-to-be- 
sent  package,  and  if  there  is  some  room,  you  might  put 
in  one  blanket.  Since  we  sleep  two  in  a  bunk,  we  spread 
our  blankets  across  the  bunk.  Brunet  has  three,  and  I 
have  three,  which  makes  it  equal  to  six  apiece.  Send 
the  blanket;  it  shall  do  its  share  of  warming,  I  assure 
you.  I  suppose  what  ma  sends  will  be  my  share  of 
Christmas  in  New  Orleans.  Our  turkeys  look  droopy, 


FEN  NEWS  LOUISIANA   BATTERY.  231 

and  there  is  no  telling  when  they  will  peg  out.  We 
keep  the  gobbler's  spirits  up  by  making  him  fight.  The 
camp  is  full  of  turkeys,  and  we  make  ours  fight  every 
day.  I  have  plenty  of  clothes  and  socks :  I  have  over  half 
a  dozen  of  woollen  socks. 

"  The  Gopher  Mess  send  their  best  regards. 
"  Yours  affectionately, 

"  Co.  A,  ORLEANS  CADETS, 
"  Louisiana  Battalion,  Williamsburg,  Virginia." 

The  formation  of  Fenner's  Louisiana  Battery  was  at 
tended  by  tremendous  difficulties  and  discouragements, 
patiently  met,  nobly  overcome,  by  the  gallant  officer 
who  found  himself  at  last  at  the  head  of  a  company 
composed  of  men  who,  whether  considered  in  the  aggre 
gate,  or  as  individuals,  had  not  their  superiors  in  the 
Confederate  armies, — intelligently  brave,  enthusiastic, 
patriotic,  gentlemen  by  birth,  breeding,  and  education, 
whom  chivalrous  devotion  to  duty  forbade  to  murmur 
at  any  hardship  which  fell  to  their  lot.  As  officers  or 
private  soldiers,  looking  to  the  future  of  the  Confed 
eracy  as  to  something  assured  ;  never  despairing,  ready 
to  follow  wherever  and  whenever  a  "  hope"  was  led,  no 
matter  how  "  forlorn." 

The  record  of  this  little  band  of  devoted  patriots  has 
never  been  thoroughly  known  or  understood  as  it  de 
serves  to  be.  Only  once  has  its  history  appeared  in 
print, — upon  the  occasion  of  a  reunion  of  the  command 
held  in  New  Orleans,  May  12,  1884.  With  great  pride 
I  transfer  to  these  pages  part  of  an  article  which  then 
appeared  in  the  Times- Democrat  of  that  date : 

"As  the  term  of  service  (twelve  months)  of  the  corps 
began  to  approach  its  end,  Captain  Charles  E.  Fenner, 
commanding  the  company  of  Louisiana  Guards,  con 
ceived  the  idea  of  raising  a  battery  of  artillery.  He 


232  MEMORIES. 

had  no  difficulty  in  getting  the  men,  a  sufficient  num 
ber  volunteering  at  once  from  the  battalion,  but  he  en 
countered  other  most  disheartening  obstacles.  The  War 
Department  had  not  the  means  of  equipping  the  artillery 
companies  already  in  service,  and  authorized  to  be  raised, 
and  he  could  only  obtain  the  authority  to  raise  this  bat 
tery  on  condition  of  furnishing  his  own  armament  of 
guns.  He  succeeded,  however,  in  making  arrangements 
with  his  friends  in  New  Orleans  to  furnish  the  guns,  and 
the  battery  had  been  made  and  was  ready  for  him  in  New 
Orleans,  when  the  city  fell,  and  it  was  captured. 

"Upon  the  discharge  of  the  battalion,  however,  he 
changed  his  rendezvous  to  Jackson,  Mississippi,  and 
proceeded  there  to  try  and  accomplish  his  object. 
Many  of  those  who  intended  to  join  him  looked  upon 
his  enterprise  as  so  hopeless  that  they  abandoned  it  and 
joined  other  commands.  A.  sufficient  number,  however, 
rallied  around  him  at  Jackson,  Mississippi,  and,  on  the 
4th  of  May,  1862,  his  company  was  organized  by  the 
election  of  officers,  and  on  the  16th  was  mustered  into 
service.  Meantime,  the  chance  of  getting  an  armament 
was  hopeless  indeed.  At  last,  however,  Captain  Fenner 
found,  lying  abandoned  by  the  railroad,  the  ruins  of  a  bat 
tery,  which  had  been  destroyed  on  the  eve  of  evacuating 
New  Orleans,  under  the  apprehension  that  it  would  have 
to  be  left,  but  was  subsequently  brought  off.  The  guns 
were  spiked  and  rammed  with  wads  and  balls,  the  spokes 
and  felloes  of  the  wheels  were  cut,  the  trails  hacked  to 
pieces,  and  all  the  ordinary  means  of  disabling  a  battery 
had  been  resorted  to.  The  task  of  reconstructing  this 
ruined  battery  was  undertaken,  and,  after  much  difficulty, 
successfully  accomplished. 

"  Then  came  the  trouble  of  obtaining  horses,  harness, 
and  other  equipments,  which  had  to  be  wrested  from 
reluctant  and  ill-supplied  quartermasters  and  ordnance- 


FENNER'S  LOUISIANA  BATTERY.  233 

officers.  At  last,  however,  all  difficulties  were  over 
come.  A  few  weeks  of  active  drilling,  and  Former's 
Battery  was  ready  for  the  field.  On  August  20,  1862, 
it  received  marching-orders  for  Port  Hudson.  Arrived 
there  just  after  the  evacuation  of  Baton  Rouge  by  the 
Federal  forces.  Ordered  on  to  Baton  Eouge.  Eemained 
there  a  few  days,  when  the  battery  returned  to  Port 
Hudson  with  the  exception  of  one  section,  which  was 
left  with  one  regiment  of  infantry  to  occupy  the  city. 
Held  it  till  retaken  by  the  Federals  in  December,  when 
our  small  force  successfully  evacuated  it  under  the  fire 
of  the  enemy's  gunboats,  and  before  the  advance  of 
their  infantry,  which  had  landed.  The  battery  re 
mained  at  Port  Hudson,  participating  in  all  the  opera 
tions  of  the  forces  there  till  May  1,  1863,  when  it  was 
ordered  to  Williams's  Bridge  to  intercept  Grierson's  raid, 
arriving  there  a  few  hours  after  the  raid  had  passed. 

"  May  7.  Ordered  to  Jackson,  Mississippi,  with  Marcy's 
Brigade. 

"Participated  in  the  Big  Black  campaign  of  General 
Johnston. 

"  In  position  at  Jackson,  and  engaged  in  the  fighting 
around  that  place  from  10th  to  16th  of  July,  losing 
several  men  killed  and  wounded. 

"After  the  evacuation  of  Jackson,  retreated  with  John 
ston's  army  to  Forrest  and  Morton.  Thence  to  Enter 
prise,  and  from  there  to  Mobile,  and  remained  there  till 
November  21,  1863,  when  ordered  to  the  Army  of  Ten 
nessee. 

"  Eoached  Dalton  November  27,  just  after  the  defeat 
at  Missionary  Ridge. 

"  Spent  the  winter  in  building  winter-quarters  succes 
sively  at  Dalton  and  Kingston,  which  were  evacuated 
before  occupied. 

"  On  the  1st  of  May,  1864,  General  Sherman  advanced 
20* 


234  MEMORIES. 

from  Chattanooga  toward  Dalton,  and  the  great  Georgia 
campaign  commenced.  From  that  time  till  the  1st  of 
September  following,  the  Army  of  Tennessee  was  almost 
constantly  engaged  with  the  enemy. 

"  May  8  to  12.  Battery  in  position  at  Mill  Creek  Gap, 
near  Dalton,  and  engaged  with  the  enemy.  They  fell 
back  to  Eesaca.  Engaged  on  the  14th  of  May  in  sup 
porting  charge  by  Stewart's  Division  upon  the  enemy. 

"  On  the  15th,  battle  of  Oostenaula.  The  battery  was 
divided,  one  section  on  each  side  of  a  battery  in  a  forti 
fied  work.  The  charge  of  the  enemy  was  most  desper 
ate,  and  they  captured  and  held  the  fortification,  but 
were  repulsed  from  the  front  of  each  section  of  Fenner's 
Battery,  which  held  their  positions  till  night,  and  then 
evacuated.  Eetreat  of  the  army  was  continued  to  Cal- 
houn,  Adairsville,  Cassville,  Centerville;  engaged  more 
or  less  at  each  of  those  points. 

"  On  the  25th  of  May  occurred  the  battle  of  New  Hope 
Church,  one  of  the  finest  fights  of  the  war.  It  was  an 
assault  of  the  whole  of  Hooker's  Corps  on  Stewart's 
Division.  The  attack  was  almost  a  complete  surprise. 
Fenner's  Battery  went  into  position  at  a  gallop,  had 
several  horses  killed  while  unlimbering,  and  fired  canis 
ter  at  the  first  discharge.  The  engagement  was  con 
tinuous  for  two  hours,  during  the  whole  of  which  time, 
owing  to  the  thickness  of  the  woods,  the  enemy's  skir 
mishers  were  enabled  to  maintain  their  position  within 
from  fifty  to  one  hundred  yards,  but  their  repeated 
charges  were  well  repulsed.  The  enemy's  loss  was  ter 
rific,  admitted  to  be  over  two  thousand,  far  exceeding 
the  number  of  our  men  engaged.  Fenner's  Battery  lost 
twenty-three  men  killed  and  wounded,  and  nearly  all  of 
its  horses,  and  was  specially  complimented  in  orders  for 
gallantry  and  efficiency. 

"From  this  point,  in, continual  conflict  with  the  enemy, 


FENNER'S  LOUISIANA   BATTERY.  235 

the  army  gradually  fell  back  till  it  reached  Atlanta, 
around  which  continuous  fighting  was  kept  up,  until  its 
evacuation  on  the  2d  of  September. 

"  1st  September.  Battle  of  Jonesboro',  in  which  the 
battery  was  engaged. 

"This  may  bo  considered  the  end  of  the  Georgia  cam 
paign. 

"  After  brief  rest  at  Lovejoy's  Station,  the  army  com 
menced  its  long  march  to  Tennessee  by  Centre,  Jackson 
ville,  G-adsden,  and  Florence. 

"Left  Florence  November  20;  arrived  at  Columbia, 
Tennessee,  and  struck  the  enemy  there  November  26. 
Enemy  evacuate  on  the  28th. 

"  November  30.     Battle  of  Franklin. 

"  December  2.     Reached  Nashville. 

"  December  6.  Fenner's  Battery  was  ordered  to  join 
General  Forrest's  command  at  Mtirfreesboro' ;  partici 
pated  in  the  battle  of  Murfreesboro*  on  the  8th,  and  was 
still  with  Forrest  when  the  battles  of  Nashville  were 
fought,  on  the  15th  and  16th,  and  the  great  retreat  com 
menced. 

"  In  this  fight,  which  is  called  the  second  of  Murfrees 
boro',  it  will  be  remembered  that  Bates's  Infantry  Divis 
ion  was  stampeded  early  in  the  action,  causing  the  loss  of 
several  guns  of  the  Fifth  Company,  Washington  Artillery. 
On  this  occasion  (one  of  the  few  instances,  if  not  the  only 
one  during  the  war)  six  pieces  of  field  artillery,  being 
four  Napoleons  of  Fenner's  Battery  and  two  rifled  pieces 
of  Missouri  Battery,  placed  in  position  by  General  For 
rest, — their  horses  having  been  sent  to  the  rear  across 
Stone  River, — held  the  line  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
against  the  enemy's  entire  force  until  the  infantry  and 
wagons  had  safely  crossed  the  river  on  the  only  bridge 
half  a  mile  in  the  rear. 

"  As  soon  as  the  news  reached  Forrest,  his  command 


236  MEMORIES. 

started  across  from  Murfreesboro'  to  join  the  main 
column  at  Columbia.  There  was  no  turnpike,  the 
roads  were  in  awful  condition,  the  horses  reduced  and 
broken  down,  and  a  continuous  rain  pouring  down. 
Two  of  the  guns  reached  Columbia  in  safety;  the  other 
two  would  have  been  brought  through  but  for  the  swell 
ing  of  a  creek  by  the  rain,  which  it  was  impossible  to 
cross, — the  only  guns  the  battery  ever  lost.  The  men 
remained  by  them  alone  till  Columbia  was  evacuated  by 
our  forces  and  the  enemy  within  a  mile  of  them,  when 
they  destroyed  their  pieces,  swam  Duck  JRiver,  and 
started  after  the  army.  The  terrors  of  the  retreat  from 
Tennessee  in  midwinter,  the  men  shoeless,  without 
blankets,  and  almost  without  clothes,  need  not  be  re 
counted  here. 

"January  10.  The  battery  reached  Columbus,  Missis 
sippi. 

"  January  31.  Ordered  to  Mobile.  Remained  there  as 
heavy  artillery  till  llth  of  April,  when  it  was  evacuated ; 
go  up  the  river  to  Demopolis;  from  there  to  Cuba  Station, 
Meridian,  where,  on  the  10th  of  May,  arms  are  laid  down 
and  the  battery  with  the  rest  of  General  Taylor's  army." 

A  member  of  the  battery,  who  was  an  exceptional 
soldier,  and  who  still  cherishes  and  venerates  everything 
that  reminds  him  of  the  glorious  past,  has  kindly  placed 
in  my  hands  some  letters  which  I  am  permitted  to  copy 
and  here  subjoin,  feeling  sure  that  they  will  prove  quite 
as  interesting  as  the  numerous  documents  of  the  kind 
published  in  the  "lives"  of  those  high  in  authority, 
although  they  contain  only  the  experience  of  a  young 
private  soldier,  conveyed  in  dutiful  letters  to  his  mother. 
Some  of  these  will  suggest  the  changes  which  befell  the 
soldiers  who  gave  the  house-warming  in  Virginia,  and 
the  difference  between  the  first  and  last  years  of  the 
war. 


FENNER'S  LOUISIANA   BATTERF.  237 

"NEAR  NEW  HOPE  CHURCH,  GEORGIA, 
«  May  26,  1864. 

"Mr  DEAR, — Knowing  that  you  will  be  anxious  to 
hear  from  me  and  the  company  after  the  late  fight,  I 
avail  myself  of  the  first  opportunity  to  write.  Stewart's 
Division  of  Hood's  Corps  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Church  yesterday  morning.  Soon  after  skirmishes  com 
menced,  moving  a  mile  off,  and  gradually  approached  us. 
By  3  P.M.  it  commenced  to  near  us,  and  5  P.M.  found  us 
galloping  into  position.  Clayton's  Brigade  supported 
us  behind  log  works,  which  served  as  an  excellent 
shelter  for  us  from  the  minies.  The  Yankees  ap 
proached  under  cover  of  the  woods  to  within  two  or 
three  hundred  yards,  where  they  made  their  lines.  As 
soon  as  we  could  see  where  they  were  we  commenced 
firing  into  them,  and  kept  it  up  until  the  ammunition  of 
the  limber  was  expended.  They  made  several  charges, 
but  were  repulsed  by  the  infantry  and  artillery  each 
time.  Our  loss  was  heavy  (artillery),  the  infantry  not 
being  as  much  exposed  as  we  were;  their  casualties 
were  slight.  At  our  howitzer  Willie  Brunet  was  killed 
after  firing  some  fifteen  rounds.  He  was  killed  in  the 
act  of  giving  the  command  to  fire,  the  ball  piercing  him 
above  the  left  eye.  Early  had  four  wounded, — viz., 
Yaudry,  painfully  in  the  breast;  J.  T.  Pecot,  painfully 

in  the  back ;  Baton,  in  the  wrist ;  Corporal  J ,  ball 

in  the  side.  At  Carly's  piece  none  were  killed,  but 
McGrath  and  Joe  Murphy  were  shot  through  the  arm, — 
the  latter  it  is  thought  will  lose  his  arm, — and  young 
Ford.  At  Woester's  piece,  E.  A.  Bridges  was  killed, 
Joe  Bridges  was  shot  in  the  leg;  McCarty,  in  the  foot; 
Dunbar,  in  the  thigh ;  Lieutenant  Cluverius,  wounded 
in  the  side;  Joe  Eeeves,  through  the  leg;  St.  Germain, 
foot.  The  loss  in  horses  was  heavy.  Woester  had  all 
eight  horses  of  his  piece  killed,  and  his  riding-horse. 


238  MEMORIES. 

Lieutenant  Cluverius  lost  his  horse  'Rebel,'  who  was 
shot  in  the  head,  and  died.  Our  detachment  had  three 
wounded ;  the  horses  saved  themselves  by  running 
away.  In  all,  we  lost  twenty-three,  and  perhaps  more. 
Stanford  was  on  our  left,  they  lost  about  fifteen  killed 
and  wounded  ;  Oliver,  sixteen.  John  Cooper  has  a  welt 
on  his  shin  from  a  spent  ball ;  John  was  driving  and  lost 
both  horses.  I  was  number  six  at  the  limber  until 
Willie  was  killed,  when  I  acted  as  gunner.  McGregor 
ranks  me,  and  hereafter  I  expect  to  be  caisson-corporal. 
General  Clayton  paid  us  the  very  highest  compliment 
upon  the  manner  in  which  the  guns  were  managed ; 
'  too  flattering  to  be  repeated/  as  Captain  Fenner  re 
marked.  '  Owing  to  the  loss  in  horses,  men,  and  ammu 
nition  expended,'  we  were  relieved  and  sent  to  the  rear 
to  replenish.  A  couple  of  days  may  right  us,  when  we 
will  again  be  in  the  front.  Stewart  did  the  fighting 
yesterday ;  I  don't  believe  any  other  division  was  en 
gaged.  A  part  of  Folk's  (if  not  all)  arrived  about  mid 
night.  Since  Folk's  Corps  joined  us,  I  have  found 
several  acquaintances,  among  whom  are  John  Butler, 
lieutenant  of  engineers ;  the  two  Spencer  boys,  in 
Cowan's  Battery ;  and  Ed.  Hoops,  in  Tenth  Mississippi. 
They  were  all  apparently  well  when  I  saw  them  last, 
and  inquired  particularly  of  you. 

"  Eespectfully  Yours, 

« » 

I  enclose  a  letter  that  we  received  from  General  Clay 
ton  on  a  copy  of  the  letter  to  the  captain,  with  an  ex 
tract  from  the  general's  report  of  the  battle  of  New  Hope 

Church : 

"HEADQUARTERS,  CLAYTON'S  BRIGADE, 

"  June  7,  1864. 

"  CAPTAIN, — I  take  pleasure  in  making  for  you  the  fol 
lowing  extract  from  my  report  of  the  battle  of  New 


FENNERS  LOUISIANA  BATTERY.  239 

Hope  Church.     With  renewed  expression  of  the  pro- 
foundest  acknowledgments  for  the  signal  service  you  did 
the  country,  and  particularly  my  brigade,  of  which  every 
officer  and  man  speak  in  the  highest  terms, 
"  Believe  me,  dear  captain, 

"  Yours  always, 

"  A.  D.  CLAYTON, 

"  Brigadier-General." 

("  Extract."} 

"  For  its  conduct  in  the  engagement  too  much  praise 
cannot  be  awarded  to  Fenner's  Louisiana  Battery,  which 
occupied  a  position  along  my  line.  Although  the  enemy 
came  within  fifty  or  sixty  yards  of  the  guns,  every  officer 
and  man  stood  bravely  to  his  post." 

The  following  letter  describing  a  Christmas  dinner  in 
1864  presents  so  true  a  picture  of  the  situation,  and  at 
the  same  time  so  well  illustrates  the  soldierly  spirit  of 
the  battery,  that  I  publish  it  in  full : 

"  RIENZA,  MISSISSIPPI,  January  4,  1865. 

"  MY  DEAR  MOTHER, — An  opportunity  of  writing  now 
offers, — the  first  since  our  leaving  Florence,  before  going 
on  our  Tennessee  campaign,  which  has  finally  terminated 
so  disastrously  for  us.  Had  orders  been  obeyed  and 
carried  out  at  Spring  Hill,  there  never  would  have  been 
a  fight  at  Nashville.  By  some  misunderstanding,  the 
Yankee  army  was  allowed  to  cross  at  the  above-named 
place  without  being  attacked.  We  followed  on  their 
tracks  to  Franklin,  picking  up  stragglers  and  prisoners 
all  along  the  way,  to  the  amount  of  several  hundred. 

"  We  left  Columbia  at  daylight,  marched  twenty-three 
miles,  and  fought  the  battle  of  Franklin  before  dark. 
Our  battery  did  not  take  part  in  the  battle :  we  were  in 
position,  but,  owing  to  the  close  proximity  of  the  two 
armies,  could  not  fire, — we  were  under  fire,  but  no  one 


240  MEMORIES. 

was  hurt.  Stewart's  and  Cheatam's  Corps  with  one 
division  from  our  corps,  fought  the  battle.  I  passed 
over  the  field  next  morning  and  saw  enough  for  never 
wanting  to  see  another  such  field.  The  men  were  actu 
ally  lying  in  some  portions  of  the  trenches  three  deep. 
Ours  being  the  attacking  party  suffered  severely, — almost 
an  equal  loss  to  the  Yankees.  Our  loss  was  about 
forty-five  hundred,  and  theirs  five  thousand,  including 
prisoners.  Next  day  we  started  for  Nashville,  eighteen 
miles  distant.  Our  battery  remained  there  till  the  5th, 
when  we  were  ordered  to  Murfreesboro'  to  aid  General 
Forrest  in  reducing  that  place.  On  the  6th  we  arrived 
there,  took  position,  and  built  works.  Next  day,  on 
account  of  a  flank  movement  by  the  enemy,  we  had  to 
move  our  position  back  a  mile.  Soon  the  enemy  ap 
peared  in  our  front,  and  skirmishing  commenced.  The 
infantry  fell  back,  leaving  the  artillery  to  do  the  fighting 
without  one  musket  to  protect  us.  We  stayed  as  long  as 
we  could,  when  we  finally  had  to  follow  the  footsteps  of 
the  infantrymen.  The  fight — there  was  none — nothing 
but  a  big  scare  and  run.  General  Forrest  sent  General 
Bateman  with  his  division  to  Nashville,  but  kept  our 
battery  with  him.  We  lost  one  man  at  Murfreesboro', 
I.  T.  Preston,  brother  of  the  Prestons  of  Carrollton. 
We  stayed  in  camp  for  seven  days  when  General  Forrest 
determined  to  attack  again  and  took  one  section  of  the 
battery  with  him, — the  other  section,  the  one  I  belong  to, 
was  sent  to  protect  his  wagon-train.  Two  days  after 
wards  the  army  commenced  its  retreat  from  Nashville 
(the  particulars  of  which  no  doubt  you  have  already 
learned).  Our  march  was  over  a  muddy  and  rugged 
road  for  fifty  miles  to  Columbia.  It  was  the  severest 
march  I  ever  undertook  :  we  pushed  and  worked  at  the 
wheels  all  the  time.  The  horses  finally  broke  down, 
and  we  had  to  take  oxen  and  yoke  them  in  and  drive 


FENNEKS  LOUISIANA  BATTERY.  241 

them.  Can  you  imagine  me  up  to  my  knees  in  mud, 
barefooted  and  muddy,  with  a  long  pole,  driving  oxen. 
It  was  a  very  picturesque  scene,  and  no  doubt  the 
*  Yankee  Illustrators'  would  pay  a  good  price  for  such 
a  picture.  I  was  about  on  a  par  with  two-thirds  of  the 
others,  and  we  made  as  merry  as  possible  under  the  cir 
cumstances.  We  had  no  rations,  and  lived  entirely  on 
the  people :  they  treated  us  splendidly,  gave  us  more 
than  we  could  eat,  and  left  us  duly  indebted  to  them 
for  their  many  kindnesses.  I  for  one  will  never  forget 
the  hospitality  received  in  Tennessee.  We  recrossed  the 
Tennessee  on  the  26th  of  December.  Christmas  day 
was  quite  an  event  to  us.  We  were  then  out  of  Ten 
nessee,  in  a  poor  country,  and  could  get  very  little  to 
eat.  All  day  myself  and  mess  were  without  food ;  late 
in  the  evening  we  saw  a  butcher-pen  and  made  for  it ; 
all  we  could  get  was  oxtails  and  a  little  tallow  procured 
by  a  good  deal  of  industry  from  certain  portions  of  the 
beef.  One  of  the  boys  procured  a  lot  of  bran  and  un 
bolted  flour  and  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night  we  sat  down 
at  our  Christmas  dinner  (oxtail  soup  and  biscuit),  and  if 
I  ever  enjoyed  a  meal  I  enjoyed  that  one.  The  army  is 
retiring  to  Okolona  and  the  artillery  to  Columbus,  Mis 
sissippi.  The  barefooted  men  were  left  here  to  go  by 
rail.  When  we  get  away  I  cannot  say.  We  had  to  leave 
two  of  our  pieces  stuck  in  the  mud,  the  other  side  of 
Columbus ;  the  third  piece  was  thrown  in  the  river ;  the 
fourth  piece,  the  one  I  am  interested  in,  was  saved  and 
represents  the  battery." 

And  here  is  the  last,  written  from  Demopolis,  Ala 
bama,  April  15,  1865  : 

"DEAR  MOTHER, — You  have  heard  ere  this  of  the 
evacuation  of  Mobile,  which  happened  on  the  day  of 
the  eleventh.  After  the  fall  of  Spanish  Fort  and 

L          q  21 


242  MEMORIES. 

Blakely,  all  hope  of  holding  Mobile  was  given  up.  The 
works  around  the  city  were  made  to  be  manned  by 
eight  thousand,  but,  after  the  capture  of  the  garrison 
at  Blakely,  our  forces  were  too  much  reduced  to  hold 
the  place.  When  evacuated,  the  place  was  not  threat 
ened,  but  might  have  been  completely  invested  in  a 
week's  time.  All  the  heavy  guns  were  destroyed:  we 
destroyed  seven  twenty-four  pounders.  The  total  loss 
of  guns  must  have  amounted  to  three  hundred.  We 
left  Mobile  by  boat,  and  each  man  with  a  musket.  It 
is  a  heavy  fall  for  us  who  have  been  in  artillery  for 
three  years,  and  now  find  ourselves  as  infantrymen, 
much  to  our  displeasure.  As  much  as  I  dislike  it,  I 
shall  keep  my  musket  until  something  better  turns 
up.  ..." 

The  history  of  the  battery,  from  first  to  last,  is  that 
of  thorough  soldiers,  brave  in  battle,  uncomplaining, 
cheerful,  even  jolly,  under  the  most  trying  circum 
stances,  bearing  with  equanimity  the  lesser  ills  of  a 
soldier's  life,  with  unshaken  fortitude  and  undimin- 
ished  devotion  to  "  The  Cause,"  indescribable  hardships 
and  discouragements. 

Proud  as  I  am  of  their  whole  record,  I  must  admire 
the  noble  spirit  which  animated  these  patriots,  when, 
at  Mobile,  having  been  deprived  of  their  cannon,  they 
cheerfully  shouldered  the  muskets  assigned  to  them,  and 
were  prepared  to  use  them,  never  dreaming  that  the 
bitter  end  was  so  near.  All  soldiers  will  well  under 
stand  that  this  was  a  crucial  test  of  their  devotion  and 
patriotism. 

The  exceptional  talent  which,  during  the  war,  these 
young  men  freely  gave  in  aid  of  every  charity,  was  then 
only  budding.  Since  the  war,  splendid  fruit  has  ap 
peared. 


FENNERS  LOUISIANA   BATTERY.  243 

Perhaps  no  single  company  of  veterans  numbers 
among  its  members  more  talented  and  remarkable  men, 
or  more  prominent  and  loyal  citizens. 

Of  the  "  boys"  who  once  composed  Fenner's  Louisi 
ana  Battery,  a  goodly  number  yet  survive. 

The  ties  of  old  comradeship  bind  them  closely.  Not 
one  forgets  the  glories  of  the  past.  True, 

"  Some  names  they  loved  to  hear 
Have  been  carved  for  many  a  year 
On  the  tomb," 

but  the  survivors  "  close  up"  the  broken  ranks,  and  still 
preserve,  in  a  marked  degree,  the  esprit  du  corps  which 
belonged  to 

11  The  days  that  are  no  more." 


CHAPTER  X. 

"BOB   WHEAT." 

The  Boy  and  the  Man. 
(Communicated.) 

IN  the  early  summer  of  1846,  after  the  victories  of 
Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de  la  Palma,  the  United  States 
Army,  under  General  Zachary  Taylor,  lay  near  the  town 
of  Matamoras.  Visiting  the  hospital  quarters  of  a  re 
cently-joined  volunteer  corps  from  "the  States,"  I  re 
marked  a  bright-eyed  youth  of  some  nineteen  years, 
wan  with  disease,  but  cheery  withal.  The  interest  he 
inspired  led  to  his  removal  to  army  headquarters,  where 
he  soon  recovered  health  and  became  a  pet.  This  was 
"  Bob  Wheat,"  son  of  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  and  ho 
had  left  school  to  come  to  the  war.  He  next  went  to 
Cuba  with  Lopez,  was  wounded  and  captured,  but  escaped 
the  garroters  to  follow  General  Walker  to  Nicaragua. 

Exhausting  the  capacity  of  South  American  patriots 
to  pronounce,  he  quitted  their  society  in  disgust,  and 
joined  Garibaldi  in  Italy,  whence  his  keen  scent  of 
combat  summoned  him  home  in  time  to  receive  a  bullet 
at  Manassas.  The  most  complete  Dugald  Dalgetty  pos 
sible  j  he  had  "  all  the  defects  of  the  good  qualities"  of 
that  doughty  warrior. 

Some  months  after  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  a 
body  of  Federal  horse  was  captured  in  the  valley  of 
Virginia.  The  colonel  commanding,  who  had  dis 
mounted  in  the  fray,  approached  me.  A  stalwart,  with 
huge  moustache,  cavalry  boots  adorned  with  spurs 
244 


"BOB    WHEAT."  245 

worthy  of  a  caballero,  slouched  hat  and  plume ;  he 
strode  along  with  the  nonchalant  air  of  one  who  had 
wooed  Dame  Fortune  too  long  to  be  cast  down  by  her 
frowns. 

Suddenly  Major  Wheat  near  by  sprung  from  his 
horse  with  a  cry  of  "Percy,  old  boy!"  "Why,  Bob!" 
was  echoed  back,  and  a  warm  embrace  followed.  Colo 
nel  Percy  Windham,  an  Englishman  in  the  Federal 
service,  had  parted  from  Wheat  in  Italy,  where  the 
pleasant  business  of  killing  was  then  going  on,  and  now 
fraternized  with  his  friend  in  the  manner  described. 

Poor  Wheat!  A  month  later  he  slept  his  last  sleep 
on  the  bloody  battle-field  of  Cold  Harbor.  He  lies  there 
in  a  soldier's  grave. 

Gallant  spirit ;  let  us  hope  that  his  readiness  to  die 
for  his  country  has  made  "  the  scarlet  of  his  sins  like 
unto  snow." 


21* 


PA.RT    II. 

FOR    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


CHAPTEE    I. 

NELLY. 

IN  the  early  autumn,  on  a  lovely  afternoon,  a  little 
girl  sat  upon  the  stile  which  led  from  a  spacious  farm 
yard  into  a  field  of  newly-mown  wheat.  In  her  hand 
she  held  a  long  switch,  and  her  business  was  to  watch 
the  motions  of  a  large  flock  of  fowls,  which,  as  is  usual 
at  harvest-time,  had  been  kept  in  their  coop  all  day, 
and  only  let  out  for  an  hour  or  two,  just  before  sun 
set,  to  run  about  in  the  grassy  yard,  seeking  bugs  and 
worms,  or  other  dainties,  which  they  alone  know  how 
to  find. 

Of  course  they  could  not  be  allowed  in  the  field  before 
the  grain  had  been  safely  garnered,  so  Nelly  had  been 
permitted  to  mount  guard  upon  the  stile,  the  better  to 
observe  and  control  them.  She  quite  felt  the  importance 
of  the  trust,  and,  holding  her  switch  as  proudly  as  if  it 
had  been  a  sceptre,  was  eager  and  quick  to  discover  oc 
casions  to  use  it.  Many  a  staid  and  demure-looking  hen, 
or  saucy,  daring  young  chicken,  had  stolen  quite  near  to 
her  post,  stopping  every  few  moments  to  peer  cautiously 
around,  or  to  peck  at  a  blade  of  grass  or  an  imaginary 
worm,  as  if  quite  indifferent  to  the  attractions  presented 
246 


NELLY.  247 

by  the  field  beyond,  but  just  as  they  had  come  close  to 
the  fence,  thinking  themselves  unnoticed,  Nelly  would 
jump  from  her  perch,  and,  with  a  thwack  of  the  switch, 
send  them  squawking  back  to  their  companions.  At 
length,  however,  the  child  seemed  to  grow  weary  of 
her  task.  Slowly  descending  to  the  ground,  she  walked 
toward  the  barn,  and,  returning  with  her  apron  full 
of  corn,  opened  the  door  of  the  chicken-house,  and, 
having  enticed  her  charge  within,  shut  them  up  for  the 
night.  This  done,  Nelly  wandered  aimlessly  about  for 
a  while,  then,  sitting  down  upon  a  large  stone,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  rolled  under  a  tree  just  to  make  a 
nice  seat,  she  looked  around  in  an  impatient  and  discon 
tented  manner.  The  sights  and  sounds  which  sur 
rounded  her  were  very  pleasant,  and — one  would  have 
imagined — exceedingly  attractive  to  a  child.  The  rays 
of  the  declining  sun,  slanting  across  the  grassy  yard, 
brightened  up  the  low,  brown  farm-house  until  the  old- 
fashioned  glass  door  and  latticed  windows  on  either 
side  seemed  as  if  brilliantly  lighted  from  within.  One 
might  easily  have  imagined  it  an  enchanted  castle. 
The  mossy  roof  looked  as  if  gilded.  In  front  of  the 
house  the  well-bucket,  hanging  high  upon  the  sweep, 
seemed  dropping  gold  into  the  depths  beneath.  On  the 
porch,  upon  a  table  scrubbed  "  white  as  the  driven 
snow,"  were  set  the  bright  tin  pans  ready  to  receive 
the  evening's  milk.  Within  the  house  the  maids  were 
singing  gayly  as  they  passed  to  and  fro  preparing  a 
substantial  supper  for  the  farmer.  Outside,  the  creak 
ing  wagons  were  being  driven  into  the  barn-yard. 
Gentle  oxen,  released  from  their  daily  toil,  stood 
patiently  waiting  to  be  fed.  Horses,  with  a  great  deal 
of  stamping  and  fuss,  were  led  into  the  barn.  Up  the 
lane  came  the  cow-boy,  alternately  whistling,  singing, 
and  cracking  his  whip,  until  at  length  the  drove  of 


248  MEMORIES. 

sweet-breathed  cows  stood  lowing  at  the  bars,  which,  at 
railking-time,  would  be  let  down  for  them  to  pass  each 
to  her  own  stall. 

Nelly  seemed  to  see  and  hear  nothing  that  was  pass 
ing  around  her.  The  shadow  upon  her  face  deepened  ; 
the  sweet  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears.  At  last  she  rose, 
and,  crossing  the  stile,  passed  rapidly  through  the 
wheat-field,  climbed  a  low  stone  wall  and  presently 
came  to  a  green  knoll,  shaded  by  a  sycamore-tree, 
commanding  a  view  of  the  public  road.  Here  she 
stood,  eagerly  gazing  down  the  road,  while  seemingly 
struggling  to  subdue  a  sorrow  which,  however,  soon 
found  vent  in  heart-broken  sobs.  Still  searching  the 
road  with  anxious,  tearful  eyes,  she  seemed  to  hesitate 
for  a  while,  but  at  last,  after  casting  many  a  fearful 
glance  toward  the  farm-house,  the  little  girl  began  to 
descend  the  high  bank,  slipping  many  times,  and  sadly 
scratched  by  the  Tough  gravel  and  projecting  roots  of 
the  trees. 

Having  reached  the  bottom,  she  did  not  pause  a 
moment,  but  drew  her  light  shawl  over  her  head  and 
ran  swiftly  away.  And  now  let  us  try  to  discover  the 
cause  of  all  this  trouble. 

My  dear  young  friends,  have  you  ever  heard  of  a  dis 
ease  called  "nostalgia?"  A  long,  hard  word,  and  one 
which  contains  a  world  of  terrible  meaning.  It  is  a 
kind  of  sickness  which  attacks  not  only  children,  but 
also  strong  and  wise  men,  who  have  been  known  to 
suffer,  nay,  even  to  die,  because  they  could  not  obtain 
the  only  remedy  which  ever  does  any  good.  Nostalgia 
means  homesickness. 

Poor  little  Nelly  was  homesick,  and  in  desperation 
she  had  fled,  hoping  to  find,  not  her  own  dear,  Southern 
home,  for  that  she  knew  she  could  never  see  again,  but 
the  house  of  her  grandmamma,  where  she  had  some  time 


NELLY.  249 

before  left  her  dear  mother.  The  little  girl  had,  ever 
since  she  could  remember,  lived  very  happily  with  her 
parents  in  their  lovely  Virginia  home.  An  only  child, 
she  was  petted  to  her  heart's  content,  having  scarcely 
a  wish  ungratified.  But  when  the  war  began  her  papa 
became  a  soldier.  Nelly  thought  he  looked  very  grand 
in  his  uniform  of  gray  with  its  red  trimmings  and  bright 
buttons,  and  rather  liked  the  idea  of  having  a  soldier 
papa.  But  after  he  had  gone  away  she  missed  him 
dreadfully.  Her  mamma  was  always  so  pale  and  sad 
that  the  child  also  grew  anxious,  and  could  no  longer 
enjoy  her  play.  At  first  letters  from  the  absent  soldier 
cheered  them,  but  as  the  months  passed  they  ceased  to 
hear  at  all,  except  the  wild  rumors  which  often  frightened 
and  distressed  the  anxious  wife.  "  Maum  Winnie,"  an  old 
negro  servant,  who  claimed  to  have  "  raised  Mars  Ned" 
(Nelly's  papa),  now  proved  a  faithful  friend  and  a  great 
comfort  to  her  mistress;  but  Nelly,  missing  the  old 
woman's  cheerful  talk  and  the  laugh  that  used  often  to 
shake  her  fat  sides,  thought  she  had  grown  cross  and 
exacting. 

The  bright  morning  sunlight  sometimes  made  the 
little  girl  forget  to  be  sorrowful,  and  when  her  "  Ponto" 
came  frisking  around  her,  she  gladly  joined  him  in  a 
wild  romp.  Immediately  Maum  Winnie  would  appear, 
the  very  picture  of  dignified  astonishment, — "  Now,  Miss 
Nell}',  ain't  you  'shame'  ?  Yer  pore  mar  she  bin  had  a 
mity  onrestless  night,  an'  jes'  as  she  'bout  to  ketch  a 
nap  o'  sleep,  yere  you  bin  start  all  dis  'fusion.  Now, 
her  eye  dun  pop  wide  open,  an'  she  gwine  straight  to 
studyin'  agin."  The  days  passed,  each  made  more 
gloomy  by  rumors  of  the  near  approach  of  the  enemy. 
At  last,  one  dreadful  night,  a  regiment  of  Federal  sol 
diers  suddenly  appeared,  and  at  midnight  Nelly  and 
her  mamma  were  compelled  to  seek  shelter  in  Maum 


250  MEMORIES. 

Winnie's  cabin.  The  next  morning  only  a  heap  of 
smoking  ruins  remained  to  show  where  their  sweet 
home  had  been. 

The  plantation  owned  by  Nelly's  papa  was  some  three 
miles  distant  from  the  £amily  residence ;  therefore,  only 
the  few  servants  necessary  for  household  service  lived 
upon  the  "home  place."  Their  cabins,  somewhat  re 
moved  from  the  house,  had  escaped  the  flames.  Maum 
Winnie's  was  larger  and  better  furnished  than  any,  and 
far  more  attractive  in  appearance.  A  rustic  fence,  built 
by  her  old  husband,  "  Uncle  Abe"  (long  since  dead), 
enclosed  a  small  yard,  where  grew  all  kinds  of  bright, 
gaudy  "  posies,"  with  here  and  there  a  bunch  of  mint  or 
parsley  or  sage,  and  an  occasional  stalk  or  two  of 
cabbage.  Over  the  little  porch  were  trained  morning- 
glories  and  a  flourishing  gourd  vine.  Beneath,  on  each 
side,  ran  a  wide  seat,  where,  in  the  shade,  Maum  Win 
nie  used  to  sit  with  her  knitting,  or  nodding  over  the 
big  Bible  which  on  Sunday  evening  she  always  pretended 
to  read.  The  neat  fence  was  now  broken  down,  the 
bright  flowers  all  trampled  and  crushed  by  the  feet  of 
men  and  horses.  Inside  also,  the  once  spotless  floor  was 
muddy  and  stained  with  tobacco,  all  the  old  woman's 
treasures  being  broken  and  scattered.  Amid  all  this 
confusion,  in  the  little  front  room,  once  the  pride  of 
Winnie's  heart,  was  carefully  placed  almost  the  only 
thing  saved  from  the  burning,  an  easy-chair,  cushioned 
upon  the  back  and  sides,  and  covered  with  old-fashioned 
chintz.  How  the  faithful  soul  had  managed  to  get  it 
there  no  one  could  have  told,  but  there  it  stood,  and 
Winnie  said,  "  Dat  ar  wos  ole  mistes'  cheer,  and  she  sot 
in  it  plum  twill  she  die.  Ole  Winnie  couldn't  stan'  an' 
see  dot  burn,  nohow."  Upon  the  little  porch  sat  Nelly 
and  her  mamma  on  the  morning  after  the  fire,  worn  out 
with  excitement,  and  feeling  utterly  forlorn.  Soon  Win- 


NELLY.  251 

nie  appeared,  bearing  upon  a  gay  red  tray  two  steaming 
cups  of  coffee.  Mrs.  Grey  took  only  a  sip  or  two,  then 
setting  the  cup  upon  the  bench  at  her  side,  she  grasped 
the  arm  of  her  old  servant,  and,  leaning  her  head  upon  the 
faithful  breast,  began  to  sob  and  moan  piteously.  Nelly 
at  this  also  cried  bitterly.  Tears  streamed  down  Win 
nie's  fat  black  cheeks.  But  the  faithful  negro  tried  to 
soothe  and  comfort  her  mistress,  patting  her  shoulders 
as  if  she  had  been  a  baby,  saying,  "  Dah !  Dah  !  honey, 
don't  take  it  so  haad.  Try  to  truss  in  de  Lawd.  He 
dun  promus,  an'  he  aint  gwine  back  on  nobody.  I's 
dun  sperience  dat." 

At  last,  won  by  Nelly's  caresses  and  Maum  Winnie's 
coaxing,  the  weary  lady  consented  to  take  some  repose 
in  "  ole  missis'  cheer,"  where,  leaning  her  aching  head 
upon  the  cushioned  side,  she  fell  asleep. 

Nelly  greatly  enjoyed  the  strong  coffee  (which  she 
never  before  had  been  allowed  to  drink).  It  made  her 
feel  very  wide  awake.  Presently  she  strolled  off  to 
ward  the  adjoining  cabins.  These  were  quite  empty, 
the  men-servants  having  disappeared  with  the  Federal 
soldiers  the  night  before,  the  women  had  followed  to 
their  camp  not  far  distant.  Not  a  living  thing  was  to 
be  seen ;  even  the  chickens  had  disappeared.  The  whole 
scene  was  very  desolate, — the  smoking  ruins,  the  deserted 
cabin,  a  cloudy  sky.  Soon  the  child  remembered  her 
playfellow,  Ponto,  and  began  to  call  him.  A  doleful 
whine  answered  her,  seeming  to  proceed  from  under  one 
of  the  negro  cabins.  Nelly  stooped  to  look,  but  could 
only  see  two  glowing  eyes,  and  hear  the  knocking  of  the 
dog's  tail  upon  the  ground.  Ponto  had  been  so  badly 
frightened  that  no  coaxing  or  ordering  would  induce 
him  to  come  out.  So  his  little  mistress  walked  angrily 
away,  and,  passing  through  the  broken  gate,  stood  look 
ing  up  and  down  the  road.  Presently  there  came  riding 


252  MEMORIES. 

along  a  Federal  officer  on  horseback,  who,  discovering 
the  forlorn  child,  stopped  to  speak  to  her. 

Nelly's  first  impulse  was  to  run  away,  but,  instead, 
she  stood  clinging  to  the  gate-post,  kicking  the  ground 
with  one  foot  and  flashing  angry  glances  at  the  "Yan 
kee."  The  officer  sighed  deeply  as  his  glance  fell  upon 
the  ruined  home,  and  then  upon  the  little,  tear-stained 
face  before  him.  Dismounting,  he  approached  more 
closely,  and  strove  to  take  the  unwilling  hand.  But 
the  child  now  broke  into  a  storm  of  sobs,  crying  out, 
"Go  away  I  you're  a  naughty  Yankee,  and  I  hate  you. 
{  You  alls'  have  burnt  up  my  mamma's  pretty  house,  and 
all  our  things,  and  my  mamma  just  cries  and  cries ;  but 
my  papa  is  gone  to  fight  the  'Yankees,'  and  I  hope  he 
will  shoot  them  all!" 

The  soldier  slowly  paced  back  and  forth.  "Ah,"  said 
he,  softly,  "if  this  were  my  little  Ida:  God  bless  her! 
Little  girl,  where  is  your  mamma?  Perhaps  I  can  help 
her.  Will  you  lead  me  to  her?" 

The  child  had  hidden  her  face  upon  her  arm,  but  now 
looked  up  in  affright.  "You  won't  hurt  my  mamma? 
You  ar'n't  going  to  burn  up  Maum  Winnie's  house?" 
said  she. 

Gradually  his  kind  face  and  gentle  manner  reassured 
her,  and  she  was,  at  last,  persuaded  to  convey  to  her 
mother  a  few  lines  which  he  pencilled  on  a  card.  To 
Nelly's  surprise,  Mrs.  Grey  consented  to  receive  the 
"Yankee."  The  little  girl  was  sent  to  conduct  him  to 
the  cabin.  The  lady  was  standing  at  the  door  as  the 
officer  and  his  little  escort  drew  near.  Nelly  thought 
she  had  never  seen  her  mamma  look  so  pretty.  Her 
eyes  were  shining,  a  lovely  red  spot  glowed  upon  each 
cheek,  but  she  did  not  smile  as  she  used  to  do  when 
receiving  a  guest,  and,  while  offering  the  stranger  a 
seat,  she  remained  standing,  looking  very  tall  and  grand. 


NELLY.  253 

During  the  conversation  which  followed,  Mrs.  Grey 
learned  that  as  a  battle  was  imminent  at  the  front  it 
was  impossible  to  pass  her  through  the  lines  (which  had 
been  her  hope  when  she  consented  to  see  the  officer). 
It  was  equally  impossible  to  remain  where  she  was. 
Her  only  place  of  refuge  was  her  mother's  home  in 
Maryland,  where  she  had  been  raised,  and  had  lived 
previous  to  her  marriage. 

Promising  to  arrange  for  her  transportation  to  the 
nearest  railroad  station,  the  kind-hearted  officer  took 
his  leave. 

When  Maum  Winnie  was  told  of  the  proposed  jour 
ney,  she  was  greatly  troubled.  But  when  Mrs.  Grey 
further  informed  her  that  she  was  free  and  not  ex 
pected  to  make  one  of  the  party,  her  distress  knew 
no  bounds.  Rushing  out  of  the  cabin,  she  seated  her 
self  on  a  log  at  some  distance,  and,  throwing  her  apron 
over  her  head,  rocked  her  body  to  and  fro,  wailing  out, 
"  Oh,  my  hebbenly  Marster,  'pears  like  I  aint  fitten  to 
bar  all  dis  trouble.  An'  how  dem  dar  gwine  to  do  'out 
ole  Winnie?" 

After  a  while,  drawing  her  pipe  and  tobacco  from  her 
pocket,  she  sought  the  comfort  of  a  smoke.  Just  then, 
Ruthy,  the  cook,  made  her  appearance  with  a  large 
bucket  on  her  head.  Flaunting  past  the  old  woman,  she 
entered  the  kitchen  without  a  word,  and  set  about  pre 
paring  a  supper  for  the  hungry  inmates  of  the  cabin. 
Where  the  material  came  from  she  declared  was  "  her 
bizness,"  and  her  saucy  manner  and  independent  talk  so 
confounded  Maum  Winnie  that  she  asked  no  more  ques 
tions,  concluding  that  "Mars  Yankee  sont  'em  an'  made 
dat  gal  fotch  'em." 

Mrs.  Grey  and  Nelly  had  few  preparations  to  make 
for  the  morrow.  The  child,  soon  after  sunset,  threw 
herself  across  the  foot  of  the  high  feather-bed  which 

22 


254  MEMORIES.  , 

stood  in  a  corner  of  the  cabin,  and  slept  soundly.  Maum 
Winnie,  taking  off  her  shoes,  bustled  about  in  her 
stocking-feet,  apparently  very  busy.  Her  movements 
were  for  some  time  unobserved  by  her  mistress,  wha 
was  lost  in  thought.  At  last,  kneeling  before  the  fire 
place,  she  reached  up  the  chimney  and  brought  out  from 
its  hiding-place  an  old,  black  tea-pot,  with  a  broken 
spout.  From  this  she  took  several  papers  of  dried 
"yarbs,"  some  watermelon-seed,  an  old  thimble,  a  broken 
tea-spoon,  a  lock  of  "  de  ole  man's  ha'r,"  and  lastly,  the 
foot  of  an  old  stocking,  firmly  tied  up. 

This  last  it  took  some  time  to  undo,  but  finally,  ap 
proaching  Mrs.  Grey,  she  turned  out  into  the  astonished 
lady's  lap  what  proved  to  be  a  collection  of  gold  and 
silver  coins,  the  hoarded  savings  of  years,  the  gift  of 
many  whom  she  had  served. 

"  Why,  Winnie,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  "  what  does  this 
mean  ?  Where  did  you  get  this  money,  and  why  do 
you  give  it  to  me?" 

"  Wall,  Miss  Ellen,  yo'  see,  ez  fur  back  ez  ole  mass  an' 
mistes'  time,  me  an'  my  ole  man  usen  to  wait  on  de  wite 
gemplums  an'  ladies  wot  come  to  de  big  house,  an'  de 
ole  man  he  mity  clus-fisted,  an'  nebber  spen'  nuffin.  an' 
sence  he  die,  an'  ole  mass  an'  miss  dey  gone,  too,  Mars 
Ned  he  dun  tuk  mity  good  keer  of  ole  Winnie,  an'  I 
nebber  bin  had  no  excessity  to  spend  dat  money,  so  I's 
kep'  it  an'  kep'  it,  ontwill  'pears  like  de  Lawd  he  dun  pint 
out  de  way  fur  it  to  go.  'Sides,  we  all's  gwine  way  off 
yander,  an'  we  can't  'pear  no  ways  'spectable  'dout  little 
cash  money." 

"  But,  Winnie,  only  Nelly  and  I  are  going  away.  You 
are  free  now,  and  will  find  other  friends,  and " 

"  Dah  I  dah  I  honey,"  broke  in  the  poor  old  creature, 
"don'  say  no  moM  I's  'bleeged  to  go  'long.  Wat  I 
want  to  be  free  for  ?  Who  gwine  keer  'bout  me  ?  'Sides, 


NELLY.  255 

I  dun  promus  Mars  Ned  I  gwine  to  see  to  you  an'  dat 
chile  yander,  an'  I's  gwine  'long  shuah" 

Wearied  and  exhausted  with  the  discussion,  and  un 
willing  to  grieve  her  husband's  faithful  old  nurse,  who 
still  clung  to  her  own  fallen  fortunes,  Mrs.  Grey  ceased 
to  object,  but  resolutely  refused  to  take  the  money,  which 
Winnie  reluctantly  gathered  up  and  carried  out  of  the 
room,  to  seek  among  the  numerous  secret  pockets  she 
always  wore  a  secure  hiding-place  for  her  treasure. 
This  decided  upon,  while  Mrs.  Grey  sank  into  an  uneasy 
slumber  in  the  chair,  the  old  woman  made  a  little  fire 
just  outside  the  back  shed,  where,  with  her  pipe  now 
lighted  and  now  "  dead  out,"  she  nodded  and  dozed  until 
morning. 

Nelly  awoke  at  sunrise,  bewildered  at  her  strange  sur 
roundings,  then  oppressed  and  sadly  grieved  by  recol 
lections  of  all  that  had  happened.  Catching  sight  of 
her  mother's  pale,  suffering  face,  the  child  flew  to  her 
side,  seeking  to  cheer  her  by  fond  caresses. 

Just  then  the  sound  of  wheels  was  heard  as  the  am 
bulance-wagon,  which  was  to  convey  them  to  the  rail 
road,  drew  up  before  the  door.  The  driver  dismounting, 
announced  that,  as  the  camp  was  about  to  be  broken  up, 

Colonel desired  the  ladies  to  start  at  once,  adding 

that  "  the  colonel  would  ride  over  to  see  them  off." 

Their  loss  by  the  fire  had  been  so  complete  that  there 
was  no  baggage.  Nelly  was  glad  to  wear  a  clean,  white 
sun-bonnet  of  Winnie's,  and  Mrs.  Grey  was  similarly 
equipped  with  a  black  one  and  a  small  black  shawl. 
Maum  Winnie  appeared  in  full  Sunday  rig,  her  head 
crowned  with  a  towering  head-handkerchief.  Her 
manner  was  lofty  and  imposing.  Evidently  she  was 
aiming  to  support  the  family  dignity,  which  had  been 
quite  lost  sight  of  by  the  others,  Mrs.  Grey  being  far 
too  sorrowful,  and  Nelly,  in  spite  of  everything,  gay 


256  MEMORIES. 

and  excited  at  the  prospect  of  a  ride  and  a  change. 
Putting  on  her  brass-rimmed  spectacles,  the  old  woman 
inspected,  with  an  air  of  supreme  contempt,  the  "turn 
out"  before  the  door,  occasionally  rolling  her  eyes  toward 
the  driver  in  a  manner  that  spoke  volumes,  but  was 
quite  lost  upon  "  dat  po'  wite  trash,  who  'spected  Miss 
Ellen  to  git  in  dat  ole  market-wagon."  After  the  others 
were  seated,  Winnie  disappeared  within  the  cabin,  and, 
after  much  delay,  came  out  dragging  an  immense  bundle. 
She  had  tied  up  in  a  gorgeous  bed-quilt  her  feather-bed 
and  pillows  with, — nobody  knows  how  many  things 
besides. 

The  driver  sprang  to  the  ground  in  consternation. 

"  Hey,  old  nigger,  what's  in  that  great  bundle  ?  You 
can't  lug  that  along.  What  you  got  in  there,  any 
how?" 

"Dat  my  bizness,"  retorted  Winnie.  "You  is  too  in- 
quisity;  'sides,  who  you  call  nigga'?  I's  a  'spectable 
cullud  ooman,  and  Mars  Ned  nebber  'low  nobody  to  call 
me  outen  my  name." 

Mrs.  Grey  vainly  tried  to  restore  peace ;  her  voice  was 

not  even  heard  ;  but  just  then  Colonel rode  up,  and 

as  Winnie  seemed  inclined  to  stand  her  ground,  he  gave 
her  a  choice  between  mounting  at  once  to  a  seat  beside 
the  driver  or  being  left  behind.  Then  perceiving  that 
Mrs.  Grey  seemed  quite  overcome  by  emotion,  and  wish 
ing  to  remove  her  as  quickly  as  possible  from  the  desolate 
scene  before  her,  he  gave  the  order  to  drive  on,  and,  rais 
ing  his  hat,  rode  off  towards  camp  before  the  lady  could 
find  voice  to  express  her  gratitude.  A  few  hours'  ride 
brought  the  refugees  to  the  railroad  station,  where  they 

took  the  cars  for ,  the  home  of  Nelly's  grandmamma. 

Here  a  warm  welcome  and  entire  comfort  awaited  them. 
Nelly  had  often  spent  weeks  at  a  time  with  her  grand 
mamma,  and  was  delighted  to  find  all  her  old  haunts  as 


NELLY.  257 

pleasant  as  ever.  Her  dolls,  toys,  books,  etc.,  had  been 
carefully  kept.  Better  than  all,  she  discovered  a  fine 
Newfoundland  puppy  and  a  litter  of  pretty  white  kit 
tens  to  console  her  for  the  loss  of  Ponto. 

One  day,  when  they  had  been  at  grandmamma's  only 
a  fortnight,  Nelly  saw  a  neighboring  farmer  drive  up  to 
the  front  gate,  and  ran  gladly  to  meet  him,  for  farmer 
Dale  was  a  cheery  old  man,  who  had  always  seemed 
very  fond  of  the  child.  Now,  however,  he  looked  very 
grave,  merely  shaking  hands,  then  bidding  Nelly  tell 
her  grandmamma  that  he  must  see  her  at  once,  "and, 
Nelly,  you  need  not  come  back,"  said  he,  "I  have  busi 
ness  with  your  grandma."  Soon  after  the  farmer  drove 
away,  while  grandmamma  returned  to  the  house,  wear 
ing  a  very  serious  face,  and  after  sitting  in  the  darkened 
parlor  awhile,  apparently  thinking  deeply,  passed  slowly 
into  her  daughter's  room.  Then  Nelly  heard  a  faint 
cry  from  her  mamma,  and  hurrying  into  the  house, 
found  her  excitedly  walking  up  and  down,  wringing 
her  hands,  and  crying,  "I  must  go  to  him!  I  must,  I 
must!"  A  letter  received  by  farmer  Dale  from  his  son, 
who  was  a  Confederate  soldier,  had  contained  the  news 
that  Mr.  Grey  was  wounded  and  a  prisoner.  Just  where 
was  unknown,  or  whether  his  wounds  were  severe 
or  perhaps  fatal.  This  news  rendered  the  poor  wife 
almost  frantic.  All  night  she  paced  the  floor  in  sleep 
less  agony.  Next  day  the  farmer  paid  a  second  visit, 
and  was  for  a  long  time  closeted  with  the  distressed 
ladies.  Afterward,  Mrs.  Grey  seemed  more  restless 
than  before,  requiring  the  constant  attention  of  both 
grandmamma  and  Maum  Winnie.  Thus  a  week  passed. 

Suddenly,  one  morning  farmer  Dale  again  appeared, 
and  this  time  very  smiling  and  gracious  to  Nelly. 

"Chatterbox,"  said  he,  "how  would  you  like  to  ride 
home  with  me  and  stay  awhile,  until  your  mother  gets 
•r  22* 


258  MEMORIES. 

better?  You  can  run  about  over  there,  and  make  all 
the  noise  you  want  to ;  nobody  will  mind  it." 

Nelly  could  not  tell  whether  she  would  like  or  not. 
It  was  very  dull  where  she  was,  but  she  did  not  care  to 
leave  her  poor  mamma.  Grandmamma,  however,  de 
cided  the  matter  by  assuring  her  that  Mrs.  Grey  needed 
perfect  quiet,  and  would  be  better  without  her.  So  the 
little  girl  ran  off  to  Maum  Winnie  to  be  dressed  for  her 
ride. 

Arrived  at  the  farm-house,  the  kindness  of  the  family, 
and  the  novelty  of  everything  she  saw,  so  charmed  the 
child  that  for  a  while  she  was  quite  content.  Little 
tasks  were,  by  her  own  request,  assigned  to  her,  easy 
and  pleasant,  but  seeming  to  the  child  of  great  conse 
quence.  But,  in  spite  of  all,  homesickness  attacked  her; 
she  grew  weary  of  everything,  and  begged  to  be  taken 
to  her  mamma.  The  kind  farmer  and  his  wife  tried  to 
turn  her  thoughts  from  the  subject,  telling  her  she  could 
not  go  just  then ;  but  day  by  day  Nelly  became  more 
dissatisfied,  the  longing  for  home  grew  stronger,  until, 
on  the  evening  when  this  begins,  she  actually  ran  away. 
And  now  let  us  see  what  became  of  her. 

Once  on  the  road,  Nelly  ran  very  fast,  until,  almost 
breathless,  she  found  herself  compelled  to  rest  awhile  in 
a  little  grove  by  the  roadside.  Scarcely  had  she  seated 
herself  upon  the  grass  when  the  steady  trot,  trot  of  a 
horse  was  heard.  She  had  barely  time  to  hide  behind 
a  large  tree  when  one  of  the  farm-hands  passed  on  his 
way  from  the  mill.  It  seemed  to  Nelly  that  the  slight 
rustle  of  the  leaves  under  her  feet  must  betray  her,  and 
the  loud  beatings  of  her  heart  be  heard.  But  the  boy 
passed  on,  and  soon  his  low  whistle,  as  well  as  the 
measured  beat  of  the  horse's  hoofs,  grew  fainter. 

However,  all  danger  was  not  over,  for  just  as  she  was 
about  to  venture  forth,  the  panting  of  some  animal 


NELLY.  259 

startled  her.  For  a  moment  her  terror  was  extreme. 
This  changed  to  chagrin  and  vexation  as  Rover,  the 
farmer's  dog,  ran  to  her  hiding-place  and  fawned  upon 
her.  Having  followed  the  farm-boy  to  the  distant  mill, 
the  poor  dog,  growing  weary  with  his  long  run,  had 
fallen  far  behind.  Now  Rover  and  the  little  girl  had 
been  great  friends,  and  had  enjoyed  many  a  romp  to 
gether,  but  just  then  his  presence  made  her  very  cross; 
so,  seizing  a  large  stick,  she  beat  the  poor  fellow  until 
he  ran  yelping  away. 

Left  alone  once  more,  Nelly  set  off  in  the  direction  of 
town.  Having  often,  in  her  rides  with  grandmamma, 
passed  along  the  same  road,  she  thought  she  knew  the 
way;  but  night  was  approaching.  It  appeared  to  the 
child  that  darkness  must  bring  added  danger.  Besides, 
she  would  soon  be  missed  at  the  farm,  pursued,  over 
taken,  and  carried  back.  This  dread  gave  her  fresh 
courage,  and  again  the  young  traveller  walked  rapidly 
on.  Before  she  had  gone  far,  a  light  wagon  overtook 
her.  In  its  driver  she  gladly  recognized  an  old  man 
who  sometimes  supplied  her  grandmamma  with  vege 
tables.  He  drew  up  in  great  astonishment  as  Nelly 
called  to  him,  but  at  her  request  allowed  her  to  climb 
to  the  seat  beside  him.  As  they  approached  the  town, 
the  heart  of  the  runaway  began  to  sink;  a  sense  of  her 
disobedience,  and  the  knowledge  that  it  would  add  to 
the  grief  of  her  dear  mother,  and,  perhaps,  greatly  dis 
please  grandmamma,  oppressed  her  sorely.  She  decided 
that  she  could  not  face  them  just  then.  Begging  the  old 
man  to  put  her  down  at  the  nearest  corner,  the  unhappy 
little  girl  approached  the  house  by  a  back  entrance,  and, 
concealed  amid  the  shrubbery,  stood  trembling  and  weep 
ing.  The  lamps  had  been  lighted,  and  from  the  windows 
of  the  dining-room  a  bright  ray  shone  out  upon  the  lawn, 
seeming  almost  to  reach  the  place  where  the  child  was 


260  MEMORIES. 

hidden.  Within  was  a  pleasant  little  group  gathered 
around  the  tea-table.  To  her  great  surprise,  Nelly  dis 
covered  her  mother  busily  engaged  in  arranging  upon  a 
waiter  covered  with  a  white  napkin  a  nice  supper,  while 
grandmamma  added  a  cup  of  steaming  tea.  Winnie  stood 
by  as  if  waiting  to  carry  supper  to  somebody,  but  Nelly 
was  puzzled  to  know  for  whom  it  was  intended.  Just 
then,  however,  the  gate-bell  rang  loudly.  Winnie  hur 
riedly  caught  up  the  waiter  and  disappeared  as  the  op 
posite  door  opened  to  admit  farmer  Dale.  His  first 
words  seemed  greatly  to  disturb  and  alarm  the  ladies. 
Grandmamma  quickly  arose  with  a  cry  of  grief  and 
horror.  Mrs.  Grey  stood  motionless,  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  farmer's  face,  her  hands  pressed  to  her  heart. 

Nelly  could  bear  no  more.  Eushing  impetuously  into 
the  house,  she  threw  both  her  arms  around  her  fright 
ened  mother,  crying, — 

"  Oh,  mamma,  grandmamma,  I  am  not  lost,  but  I  have 
been  so  naughty.  I  wanted  you  so,  and  I  ran  away.  Oh, 
let  me  stay;  please  let  me  stay." 

The  mother  sank  into  a  chair,  her  arms  instinctively 
enfolding  her  naughty  child,  but  she  did  not  kiss  or  wel 
come  her.  Grandmamma,  too,  looked  very  grave  and 
troubled.  After  a  few  minutes  of  painful  silence,  the 
farmer  took  his  leave,  saying, — 

"  I'll  leave  you  to  settle  with  the  little  one.  I  must 
make  haste  to  relieve  iny  wife's  anxiety." 

After  his  departure,  the  penitent  nestled  more  closely 
to  her  mother.  She  felt  sure  of  her  love  and  forgive 
ness,  and  hoped  that  grandmamma  might  not  be  too 
severe,  although  she  fully  expected  a  good  scolding  and 
gome  kind  of  punishment  besides,  which  she  meant  to 
bear  quite  meekly.  To  her  surprise,  neither  mentioned 
her  fault.  Her  mother  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  some 
thing  else,  and  Nelly  did  not  at  all  understand  the  queer 


NELLY.  261 

looks  which  passed  between  the  ladies.  At  last  Winnie 
put  her  head  in  the  door,  evidently  to  deliver  some  mes 
sage,  for  she  began,  "  Mars ,"  when  Mrs.  Grey  started 

up  suddenly,  saying, — 

"  Oh,  Winnie,  here  is  our  Nelly,"  while  the  child  sprang 
forward  to  throw  herself  on  the  breast  of  her  astonished 
nurse. 

"  De  Lawd  er  Massy !  Whar  dat  chile  cum  from  dis 
time  o'  nite?" 

"Why,  Winnie,"  explained  grandmamma,  "she  has 
run  away  from  the  farm,  and  here  she  is.  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  such  badness?" 

"  Dab,  now  1"  cried  the  negro,  "  didn't  I  tole  you  dat  ?  I 
jest  know  dat  chile  wasn't  gwine  to  stay  nowhar  'dout  her 
mar  an'  me.  Po'  chile,  she  look  mity  bad,  'deed  she  do." 

"  Well,  Winnie,  never  mind  that  now,  'she  is  only 
tired ;  let  her  eat  her  supper  and  go  to  bed." 

Nelly  had  expected,  at  the  very  least,  to  be  sent  sup- 
perless  to  bed,  but  instead,  grandma  gave  her  all  she 
could  eat,  and,  but  for  the  strange  preoccupied  manner 
which  so  puzzled  her,  the  child  would  have  been  very 
comfortable.  When,  led  by  her  mamma  and  attended 
by  Winnie,  she  went  up-stairs  she  found  that  her  couch 
had  been  removed  into  her  grandmamma's  room.  "  You 
will  be  better  here,"  explained  Mrs.  Grey,  "  for  I  am  very 
restless  and  might  disturb  you." 

Nelly  was  just  conscious  of  an  unusual  bustle  in  the 
passage  outside,  and  of  hearing  voices  and  footsteps 
going  up  to  the  third  story;  but,  too  sleepy  to  pay 
attention,  she  soon  ceased  to  hear  anything. 

When  she  awoke  the  morning  was  far  advanced,  and 
her  grandmamma  was  not  in  the  room.  While  she  lay 
thinking  over  the  strange  events  of  the  day  before, 
Maum  Winnie  appeared  with  some  fresh,  clean  clothes 
upon  her  arm. 


262  MEMORIES. 

"  Mornin',  little  missy,"  said  she,  pleasantly  ;  "  is  you 
gwine  ter  sleep  all  day?" 

Nelly  sprang  up  and  was  soon  dressed.  Eunning  into 
her  mamma's  room,  she  found  it  all  in  order,  the  sweet 
wind  and  the  morning  sun  coming  in  freely  through  the 
open  windows.  Mrs.  Grey,  however,  was  not  there; 
nor  did  she  find  her  in  the  breakfast-room,where  only 
grandmamma  sat  waiting  to  give  the  child  her  breakfast. 
Upon  the  sideboard  stood  a  tray  which  had  contained 
breakfast  for  somebody ;  Nelly  wondered  who,  and  sud 
denly  asked, — 

"  Is  mamma  sick  ?" 

"No,  she  is  quite  well  now,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  did  she  eat  breakfast  with  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

The  child  again  glanced  toward  the  sideboard,  and  at 
last  asked  plainly, —  «^ 

"  Whose  breakfast  is  that  yonder,  and  who  did  you  all 
send  supper  to  last  night?" 

"  Nelly,"  said  her  grandmamma,  sharply,  "eat  your 
breakfast,  and  ask  no  more  questions.  Little  girls  should 
be  seen  and  not  heard." 

The  child  obeyed,  but  remained  curious,  and  deter 
mined  to  find  out  the  mystery,  if  she  could.  Soon  her 
mother  came  in,  kissed  her  affectionately,  and  stood  for 
a  few  moments  by  her  chair,  smoothing  back  her  curls 
just  as  she  used  to  do.  Nelly  thought  gladly  of  the 
happy  day  she  would  spend  at  her  mother's  side,  but 
Mrs.  Grey  disappointed  her  by  saying, — 

"  My  daughter,  you  must  play  as  quietly  as  possible 
to-day,  and  don't  run  or  romp  near  the  house.  I  am  far 
from  well,  and  very  nervous." 

The  little  girl,  however,  drew  her  mother  out  of  the 
room  upon  the  vine-shaded  gallery,  where  they  walked 
up  and  down  for  a  few  moments.  But  Mrs.  Grey  still 


NELLY.  263 

seemed  ill  at  ease,  and  soon  returned  within  the  house. 
Then  Nelly  ran  down  the  steps  and  across  the  lawn  in 
search  of  her  old  playmates,  the  kittens  and  the  puppy, 
visited  the  garden  and  summer-house,  where  she  occu 
pied  herself  in  arranging  a  bouquet  for  her  mamma. 
At  last  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  must  be  nearly  twelve 
o'clock ;  so  returning  to  the  house,  and  finding  the  lower 
rooms  deserted,  she  wandered  into  the  kitchen,  where  she 
found  Maum  Winnie  broiling  some  birds  and  preparing 
some  nice  toast,  while  near  by  upon  the  kitchen-table 
was  a  waiter  ready  to  carry  up  the  delicate  lunch  to 
somebody.  Nelly  at  once  began, — 

"  Oh,  Maura  Winnie,  who  are  those  birds  for  ?  Where 
is  the  cook?  What  are  you  in  the  kitchen  cooking 
for?" 

Winnie  seemed  wonderfully  flurried  and  confused  by 
all  these  questions,  and  Nelly  was  equally  disconcerted 
at  finding  the  old  woman  so  cross. 

"Jes*  listen  to  de  chile  1"  cried  Winnie.  "Wot  you 
makin'  all  dis  miration  'bout?  I  nebber  seed  nobody  so 
inquisity  as  you  is.  De  cook  she  dun  leff,  an'  I's  cookin' 
ontwill  yer  grandmar  git  somebody.  Ef  you  don'  be- 
lieb  me,  ax  yer  mar.  Ennyhow,  Pa  gwine  to  'quaint 
yer  mar  with  yer  conduck,  axin'  so  many  perterment 
questions." 

"But,  who  are  the  birds  for?"  persisted  Nelly.  "I 
know  mamma  never  eats  birds,  and  grandmamma  isn't 
sick." 

"  I  'clar,  Miss  Nelly,  Ps  outdone  wid  you.  Go  outer 
heah,  'fore  I  calls  yer  grandmar." 

Nelly  left,  still  very  curious  and  dissatisfied. 

Having  wandered  about  aimlessly  for  a  while,  the 
little  girl  at  last  strayed  into  the  empty  parlor,  and 
there  sat  down  to  consider.  Suddenly  she  heard  a 
stealthy  step  upon  the  stairs.  At  the  same  time  a  faint 


264  MEMORIES. 

odor  of  broiled  birds  saluted  her  nostrils.  Nelly  crept 
softly  to  the  door,  just  in  time  to  see  her  grandma  as 
cending  the  flight  of  stairs  leading  to  the  third  story. 
"  Now,"  thought  the  child,  "  I  will  find  out  what  all  this 
means." 

Waiting  until  the  old  lady  had  passed  out  of  sight  in 
the  corridor  above,  she  stealthily  followed.  All  the 
doors  of  the  rooms  in  the  third  story  were  closed,  but 
through  an  open  transom  came  the  sound  of  voices. 
Listening  eagerly,  she  heard  her  mamma  speaking,  and 
in  reply  a  voice  which  set  her  heart  beating  wildly  and 
made  her  dizzy  with  surprise.  In  a  moment  she  was 
vainly  striving  to.  open  the  locked  door,  screaming 
loudly,  "Papal  oh,  papa!"  Instantly  the  door  was 
opened,  and  she  found  herself  dragged  inside  the  room, 
her  grandma's  hand  placed  closely  over  her  mouth, 
while  her  mother,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  said,  "  Nelly,  for 
pity's  sake  hush,-no  one  must  know"  Gazing  about  her 
with  wildly-distended  eyes,  the  frightened  girl  beheld, 
reclining  in  an  easy-chair  by  the  bedside,  her  dear  papa, 
but,  oh,  so  pale,  so  changed.  A  small  table  drawn 
closely  to  his  side  so  as  to  project  over  the  arm  of  the 
chair  held  a  large  pillow  covered  with  oil-cloth,  upon 
this  lay  one  arm,  which,  with  the  shoulder,  was  entirely 
bare ;  just  under  the  collar-bone  appeared  a  frightful 
wound,  over  which  Mrs.  Grey  was  preparing  to  lay  a 
linen  cloth  wet  with  cool  water.  Nelly  gasped  for 
breath  and  turned  very  white,  but  when  her  papa  held 
out  his  well  hand  towards  her  with  the  old  sweet  smile 
she  so  well  remembered,  she  ran  to  his  side  and  nestled 
there,  still  trembling  and  sobbing,  for  she  had  been 
frightened,  first  by  the  rough  treatment  of  her  grandma, 
and  yet  more  by  the  changed  appearance  of  the  dearly- 
loved  father,  who,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  must  be  dying. 
As  further  concealment  was  useless,  Nelly  was  taken 


NELLY.  265 

into  the  confidence  of  the  ladies,  who,  however,  seemed 
almost  in  despair  lest  the  child  in  some  thoughtless 
manner  should  betray  the  secret  so  anxiously  guarded. 

A  short  time  before  the  visit  to  the  farm  a  dreadful 
battle  had  been  fought  in  Virginia,  not  many  miles  from 
the  State-line,  near  which  stood  the  house  of  Nelly's 
grandma.  It  so  happened  that  the  regiment  to  which 
Mr.  Grey  belonged  had  participated  in  the  fight,  and  at 
the  conclusion  he  found  himself  badly  wounded  and  a 
prisoner.  Having  been  ill  previously,  the  wounded  sol 
dier  was  unable  to  be  marched  off  with  other  prisoners, 
but  was  left,  as  all  supposed,  to  die.  The  tide  of  battle 
rolled  on,  leaving  the  field  where  the  fight  began  strewn 
with  the  dying  and  the  dead.  A  blazing  sum  poured  its 
intolerable  light  and  heat  upon  the  upturned  faces  and 
defenceless  heads  of  hundreds  of  suffering,  dying  men, 
adding  frightful  tortures  to  the  pain  of  their  wounds. 
When  the  dews  of  night  came  to  moisten  parched  lips, 
to  cool  aching  brows,  Mr.  Grey  managed  to  drag  him 
self  to  a  stump  near  by,  and  placing  his  back  against  it, 
waited  hoping  to  gain  a  little  more  strength.  His  mouth 
was  parched  and  dry,  but  he  had  not  a  drop  of  water. 
Suddenly  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  canteen  lying  at  no  great 
distance,  almost  within  reach  of  his  hand ;  with  infinite 
pain  and  trouble  he  at  last  possessed  himself  of  it.  It 
was  not  quite  empty,  but  just  as  Mr.  Grey  was  about  to 
drink,  he  heard  a  deep  groan,  and  turning,  met  the 
imploring  eyes  of  a  Federal  soldier.  He  was  but  a 
youth,  and  had  been  shot  through  the  body  and  mor 
tally  wounded.  His  parched  lips  refused  to  speak,  only 
the  earnest  eyes  begged  for  water.  Mr.  Grey  at  once 
handed  him  the  canteen,  although  he  felt  almost  as  if 
he  would  die  for  want  of  the  water  it  contained. 
Eagerly  the  dying  boy  drank.  It  seemed  as  if  he  must 
take  all,  there  was  so  very  little,  but  after  a  swallow  or 
M  23 


266  MEMORIES. 

two  he  resolutely  banded  it  back,  gasping,  "  God  bless 

.     Left  you  some."     When  the  moon  arose,  its  rays 

fell  upon  the  dead  young  face  of  the  boy  in  his  gory 
blue,  whose  last  words  had  been  a  blessing  upon  the 
wounded,  exhausted  soldier  in  gray  sitting  beside 
him. 

Later  came  help, — old  men  who,  starting  when  the 
first  news  of  the  battle  reached  them,  had  ridden  miles 
guided  by  the  sound  of  the  firing.  Most  of  them  were 
Marylanders,  who  had  sent  forth  their  sons  to  battle  for 
the  Confederate  cause,  and  who  now  sought  among  the 
dead  and  dying  with  dim,  anxious  eyes  for  the  loved 
faces  they  yet  prayed  not  to  find.  Among  them  came 
farmer  Dale,  whose  son  was  a  Confederate  soldier. 
Eagerly  he  examined  the  faces  of  those  who  lay  upon 
the  bloody  field.  All,  however,  were  strange,  until  at 
last  he  came  upon  Mr.  Gre}'.  Carefully  assisting  him 
to  reach  an  old  cabin  which  stood  near,  he  made  the 
suffering  man  as  comfortable  as  possible,  then,  without 
loss  of  time,  set  out  to  convey  the  news  to  Mrs.  Grey. 
Now,  it  would  seem  that  the  very  easiest  thing  would 
have  been  to  carry  the  wounded  soldier  at  once  to  the 
house  of  his  wife's  mother  to  be  nursed  and  cared  for, 
but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  Federal  army  had 
been  shown  in  many  ways  that  they  were  considered  as 
invaders  by  the  people  of  Maryland,  and  that  their 
presence  was  obnoxious  and  hateful.  They,  on  the 
other  hand,  considered  all  Southern  sympathizers  as 
traitors  to  their  flag  and  their  country.  Every  open 
expression  of  such  feelings  was  severely  punished.  Had 
it  been  known  that  any  Confederate  soldier  was  harbored 
or  concealed  in  any  house  within  the  Federal  lines,  the 
owners  would  have  been  arrested  together  with  the  sol 
dier  they  had  hidden,  their  house  would  probably  have 
been  burned.  So  it  was  necessary  in  the  case  of  Mr. 


NELLY.  267 

Grey  to  observe  great  secrecy  and  to -plan  carefully  his 
removal. 

My  readers  will  remember  that  .Nelly  was  suddenly 
sent  off  to  stay  at  the  farm-house.  Then  Maum  Winnie 
took  occasion  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  white  servants, 
in  which  she  succeeded  so  well  that  they  both  left  in 
high  displeasure.  Shortly  afterward,  one  dark  night, 
Farmer  Dale  drove  up  to  the  carriage  gate  with  a  high- 
piled  load  of  hay.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  "geeing" 
and  "hawing"  and  fuss,  and  then,  instead  of  getting 
down,  the  farmer  called  out, — 

"  Say,  are  you  all  asleep  ?" 

At  once  Maum  Winnie's  voice  was  heard  inquiring, — 

"Whodat?" 

"  Hey,  old  girl,  come  down  here  and  open  the  gate. 
I've  brought  your  hay,  but  I  got  stalled  on  the  way, 
and  it's  too  late  to  put  it  up  to-night.  I'll  have  to  drive 
the  wagon  in  and  leave  it.  I'll  unload  it  in  the  morning." 

Maum  Winnie  shut  the  window,  and  soon  was  heard 
shuffling  along  the  carriage-road,  grumbling  to  herself. 

"  'Fore  do  Lawd,  I  is  plum  wore  out.  I  dun  wuk  sence 
sun-up,  an'  dere  dat  ar  fodder  fotch  here  jes'  es  I  gwine 
ter  lie  down." 

This  pretence  of  ill-humor  was  kept  up  until  the  wagon 
was  well  out  of  sight  from  the  street  and  driven  up  under 
a  shed  close  by  the  kitchen-door,  when  poor  old  Maum 
Winnie  came  up  close  and  whispered, — 

" Is  you  brung  Mars  Ned  shure  'nuff?  Oh,  whar  he? 
tell  Winnie  whar  he  1" 

Just  then  the  two  ladies  stole  out  from  the  house  and 
came  close  to  the  wagon.  Both  seemed  calm  and  self- 
possessed,  save  that  the  hurried  breathing  of  Mrs.  Grey 
showed  her  excitement.  A  light  might  have  betrayed 
them,  and  they  dared  not  run  any  risks.  No  time  was 
now  to  be  lost.  Mr.  Grey  was,  indeed,  concealed  among 


268  MEMORIES. 

the  hay,  and  needed  immediate  attention,  for  the  long 
ride  had  greatly  increased  the  pain  and  fever  of  his 
wound. 

Slowly  he  crept  out  from  his  hiding-place,  and,  with 
the  assistance  of  the  farmer  and  Winnie,  managed  to 
reach  an  upper  room,  where  he  sank  exhausted,  yet 
with  a  contented  sigh,  on  the  comfortable  bed  which 
had  been  for  days  awaiting  him. 

Under  the  loving  care  of  the  ladies  and  Maum  Winnie 
he  slowly  improved.  No  one  had  suspected  his  pres 
ence  in  the  house  until  Nelly  discovered  him,  as  above 
related. 

Mr.  Grey  scarcely  dared  to  hope  that  the  little  girl 
would  be  able  to  keep  the  secret,  but  all  was  explained 
to  her.  She  was  made  to  understand  the  extreme  dan 
ger  to  all  concerned  in  case  of  discovery.  The  trust  re 
posed  in  her  made  the  child  feel  quite  womanly.  Every 
day  she  became  more  helpful,  a  greater  comfort  to  her 
anxious  mamma,  better,  able  to  assist  in  nursing. 

Weeks  passed,  bringing  renewed  health  and  strength 
to  the  soldier,  who  began  to  feel  very  anxious  to  rejoin 
his  command.  Various  plans  were  discussed,  but  none 
appeared  practicable.  Humors  of  an  advance  of  the 
Confederate  forces,  and  of  an  impending  battle,  became 
every  day  more  like  certainties.  At  last,  one  morning 
all  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  heavy  guns;  later, 
volleys  of  musketry  could  be  plainly  heard.  Federal 
troops  marched  at  double-quick  through  the  town,  on 
their  way  to  the  scene  of  strife.  All  day  the  fight 
raged.  Sometimes  the  sound  of  firing  would  seem 
nearer,  then  farther  off;  at  nightfall  it  ceased.  When 
it  became  quite  dark,  Mr.  Grey,  bidding  them  all  fare 
well,  hurriedly  left  the  house,  hoping  to  join  some  de 
tachment  of  Confederates  during  the  night,  and  to  par 
ticipate  in  the  battle  next  day. 


NELLY.  269 

The  next  day  was  fought  the  battle  of ,  which 

raged  almost  in  sight  of  the  town.  Nelly  was,  of 
course,  in  a  state  of  great  alarm  and  excitement,  but 
both  her  mamma  and  grandma  were  carefully  prepar 
ing  the  house  for  the  reception  of  the  wounded.  Soon 
every  room  was  occupied,  and  the  ladies  had  their 
hands  full  in  attending  to  them.  On  the  second  day  a 
wounded  Federal  was  brought  to  the  house.  While 
nursing  him,  Mrs.  Grey  learned  that  he  was  a  private 

in  the  regiment  commanded  by  Colonel ,  the  officer 

who  had  so  kindly  assisted  in  her  time  of  need.  He 
told  her  that  the  colonel  had  been  terribly  wounded 
and  carried  to  a  hospital  on  the  battle-field.  Mrs.  Grey 
at  once  determined  to  find  him,  and,  if  stfll  alive,  to  do 
him  all  the  good  in  her  power.  So,  summoning  farmer 
Dale,  she  rode  with  him  to  the  hospital.  Being  an 

officer,  Colonel  was  easily  found.  He  had  just 

suffered  amputation  of  an  arm,  and  was  weak  from  loss 
of  blood,  but  recognizing  Mrs.  Grey,  smiled  and  seemed 
glad  to  see  her.  It  was  impossible  to  move  him,  but 
from  that  time  he  lacked  nothing  that  could  add  to  his 
comfort.  Later,  Nelly  was  allowed  to  visit  him,  fre 
quently  bringing  flowers,  and  in  many  pleasant  ways 
cheering  his  loneliness. 

Meanwhile  the  Confederate  forces  had  swept  on 
into  Pennsylvania,  but,  alas,  were  forced  back.  When 
they  returned  to  Virginia,  Mrs.  Grey  and  Nelly  went 
with  them,  for  both  preferred  to  risk  all  chances  rather 
than  to  remain  within  the  Federal  lines,  cut  off  from  all 
communication  with  the  husband  and  father  who  might 
at  any  time  need  their  services.  So  they  became  "  refu 
gees,"  living  as  did  thousands  of  homeless  ones,  as  best 
they  might.  Maum  Winnie  having  proved  her  skill 
as  a  nurse,  found  plenty  of  employment.  Her  wages, 
added  to  the  little  Mrs.  Grey  could  earn  by  her  needle, 

23* 


270  MEMORIES. 

kept  them  from  absolute  want.  At  last  came  the  sad 
day  of  "  the  surrender." 

Nelly  was  yet  too  young  to  understand  the  sorrow 
and  despair  of  her  mother,  nor  could  she  refrain  from 
exceeding  wonder  when  one  day  Mr.  Grey  appeared, 
looking  like  an  old  and  haggard  man,  and  without  a 
greeting  to  his  wife  and  child,  tottered  to  a  seat,  throw 
ing  his  arms  upon  the  table,  burying  his  face  within 
them,  while  he  moaned  and  sobbed  as  only  a  man  can. 
Kneeling  by  his  side,  his  wife  tried  to  soothe  and  com 
fort  him,  but  although  he  was  able  at  last  to  restrain  his 
grief,  it  was  many  a  day  before  he  was  seen  to  smile. 

There  was  nothing  left  for  the  impoverished  family 
but  to  returnto  the  old  Virginia  home,  and  try  to  make 
the  best  of  it.  They  were  compelled  to  travel  as  best 
they  could,  sometimes  walking  many  miles,  sometimes 
taking  advantage  of  a  passing  wagon.  At  last  one  even 
ing,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  they  approached  the 
home-place,  once  a  blooming  paradise,  now  a  desert 
waste.  The  cabin  of  Maum  Winnie  with  a  few  of  the 
servants'  houses  were  still  standing,  but  deserted  and 
desolate.  Doors,  log  fireplaces,  etc.,  had  been  torn  down 
for  firewood,  and  in  many  places  patches  of  charred 
wood,  or  dead  embers,  showed  where  camp-fires  had 
been  lighted.  The  little  garden  in  front  of  Maum  "Win 
nie's  cabin,  made  and  carefully  tended  by  "  de  ole  man," 
was  a  wilderness  of  weeds  among  which  flowers  of  rank 
growth  still  struggled  for  a  place.  Where  the  chimneys 
of  the  "  house"  still  stood,  and  all  over  the  half-burned 
trunks  of  once  beautiful  trees  crept  and  clung  sickly- 
looking  vines,  springing  from  the  roots  which  had  once 
nourished  a  luxuriant  growth  and  were  not  wholly  dead. 

As  Mr.  Grey  surveyed  the  scene,  a  deep  groan  burst 
from  his  lips ;  but  the  wife  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder,  saying,  "  Courage,  dear,  we  will  make  a  home 


NELLY.  271 

even  here."  Maum  Winnie  here  stepped  to  the  front, 
briskly  leading  the  way  to  the  little  cabin,  followed  by 
Nelly,  who,  child-like,  entered  readily  into  any  plan  that 
promised  to  be  novel  and  exciting.  Everything  of  value 
had  been  carried  off,  but  a  few  chairs  and  a  bed  with  a 
shuck  mattress  remained,  together  with  a  few  pots  and 
pans.  The  fireplaces  were  also  ready  for  use.  Winnie 
soon  had  a  cheerful  fire,  while  Nelly  set  out  on  the  top 
of  a  box  the  remains  of  the  rations  they  had  brought 
along,  and  which  with  some  steaming  coffee  of  parched 
corn  formed  the  evening  meal. 

Ten  years  later  a  plain  but  tasteful  -cottage  occupied 
the  site  of  the  ruined  home.  Fast-growing  vines  were 
doing  their  best  to  rival  the  luxuriant  foliage  which 
once  almost  hid  the  old  house.  A  well-kept  garden  per 
fumed  the  air  and  delighted  the  eye.  Fields  ripe  for 
the  harvest  occupied  the  land  where  the  negro  cabins 
had  stood,  forming  an  effective  background  to  the 
newly-repaired  and  whitewashed  house  of  Maum  Win 
nie,  which  stood,  a  pleasant  feature  of  this  scene  of 
peace  and  plenty,  its  fences  intact,  posies  blooming  as 
of  old.  On  the  little  porch  sat  the  old  woman,  dozing 
over  her  knitting.  The  gallery  of  the  house  was  occu 
pied  by  a  family  group,  who  were  enjoying  the  fresh 
coolness  of  the  evening  out  of  doors.  Mrs.  Grey  sat 
upon  the  upper  steps  arranging  some  flowers,  which 
were  supplied  to  her  as  she  called  for  them  by  a  lovely 
boy,  who  had  just  brought  his  apron  full  of  them. 
Nelly,  swinging  in  a  hammock,  was  a  picture  of  lazy 
enjoyment.  The  attention  of  all  was  attracted  by  the 
sound  of  wheels,  which  ceased  as  a  carriage  drove  up 
containing  a  gentleman  and  lady,  and  a  young  lady 
who  sat  by  the  driver  (an  old  negro  who  was  often  em 
ployed  as  a  driver  and  guide  by  strangers).  Nelly  ran 
down  to  the  gate,  followed  by  her  mother.  The  gentle- 


272  MEMORIES. 

man  bad  by  this  time  descended.  One  glance  at  the 
empty  sleeve  was  enough,  even  if  the  kindly  face  had 

not  been  so  little  changed.     It  was  Colonel ,  who, 

having  business  in  Eichmond,  had  "stopped  off"  at  the 
wayside  station  for  a  few  hours,  that  he  might  endeavor 
to  find  the  Greys,  and  introduce  to  his  wife  and  daughter 
the  kind  friends  who  had  so  faithfully  nursed  him  when 
wounded,  and  also  show  them  the  scene  of  incidents 
often  related  to  them. 

The  ladies  having  been  introduced,  the  strangers 
accepted  a  cordial  invitation  to  alight.  While  they 
were  chatting  pleasantly  upon  the  vine-shaded  gallery, 
Mr.  Grey  rode  into  the  yard  upon  a  strong-looking 
white  mule.  The  greeting  of  the  soldiers  was  courteous 
and  pleasant.  The  contrast  between  them  was  striking 
indeed. 

The  one  clad  elegantly  and  fashionably,  his  shirt-front 
blazing  with  diamond  studs,  his  hair  and  beard  luxuri 
ant  and  carefully  kept.  The  pleasant  eyes  untroubled 
and  smiling.  The  other  in  the  plain  garb  of  one  who 
must  earn  his  bread,  coarse  but  scrupulously  neat.  The 
face  bronzed  from  exposure,,  the  hair  damp  with  the 
sweat  of  toil,  and  yet,  when  the  brown,  hardened  hand 
of  the  Virginia  gentleman  met  the  white  clasp  of  the 
rich  man  of  the  North,  Mr.  Grey  lost  nothing  by  com 
parison.  Colonel having  laughingly  inquired  after 

Maum  Winnie,  the  whole  party  repaired  to  her  cabin. 
The  old  woman  received  her  guests  with  stately  polite 
ness,  holding  her  turbaned  head  high,  as  she  majestically 
stalked  before  them  to  show,  at  their  request,  her 
chickens,  ducks,  and  pigs.  She  omitted  nothing  that 
was  due  to  her  visitors,  but  there  was  a  strained  polite 
ness,  and  a  rolling  of  her  eyes  toward  them,  which  made 
Mrs.  Grey  uneasy  and  quite  prepared  her  for  what  fol 
lowed.  While  Colonel  was  in  the  act  of  saying 


NELLY.  273 

something  which  he  thought  would  quite  win  the  old 
creature's  heart,  she  looked  up  at  him  over  her  glasses, 
saying,— 

"  Yer  ain't  seen  nuffin  er  dat  ar  fedder-bed  yet,  is  yer  ? 
Kaso  olo  Miss  she  dun  giv'  me  dat  ar  bed  too  long  to 
talk  about,  an'  ebery  one  ob  dem  fedders  was  ris  rite 
on  dis  yere  place.  'Fore  de  Lawd,  if  ole  Miss  know 
I  dun  loss  dat  ar  bed  she  gwine  ter  rise  rite  outen  de 
grabe." 

Colonel ,  remembering  the  scene  of  the  disaster 

to  "Winnie's  feather-bed,  felt  inclined  to  laugh  heartily, 
but  wishing  to  mollify  the  old  creature  preserved  his 
gravity  while  he  offered  her  quite  a  handsome  sum  "  to 
buy  some  more  feathers."  A  look  from  Mr.  Grey  put  a 
stop  to  the  old  woman's  talk.  Soon  the  visitors  took 
their  leave,  having  given  and  received  most  pleasant  im 
pressions.  Their  visit  recalled  so  vividly  their  time  of 
trial  and  adventure  that  the  Greys  sat  talking  far  into 
night. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Grey  walked  over  to  the  cabin 
to  administer  a  rebuke  to  Maum  Winnie.  As  ho  drew 
near  the  gate  the  quavering  voice  of  the  old  woman  was 
heard  singing  jerkily,  and  with  a  pause  between  evary 
few  words, — 

"  Aldo  yer  sees  me  gwine  'long  so, 
I  has  my  troubles  heah  below.  " 

At  last,  discovering  Mr.  Grey,  she  rose  and  dropped  a 
courtesy. 

"  Mornin',  Mars  Ned." 

"  Well,  Winnie,  you  forgot  your  Virginia  raising  yes 
terday.  What  is  all  this  about  your  feather- bed  ?" 

"  Well,  Mars  Ned,  dey  dun  stole  it." 

"  Who  stole  it  ?" 

"  Dah,  honey,  de  Lawd  only  knows,  an'  he  ain't  gwine 


274  MEMORIES. 

ter  tell.     I  dun  loss  it  anyhow,  an'  my  pore  ole  bones 
raity  sore  sleepin'  on  dem  shucks." 

Mr.  Grey,  finding  that  the  old  creature's  grievance  was 
very  real  to  her,  refrained  from  scolding,  and,  passing 
out  through  the  little  flower-garden,  proceeded  to  the 
stable  to  feed  the  stock,  a  piece  of  work  which  before 
the  war  had  employed  many  hands,  but  which  now  was 
performed  by  himself,  assisted  only  by  one'  negro  man. 

Upon  the  summer  air  rang  the  sweet  voice  of  Nelly 
as  she  sang  at  her  work.  In  the  scented  garden  Mrs. 
Grey  with  her  little  boy  weeded  and  trimmed  and  twined 
the  lovely  flowers,  feeling  really  a  greater  delight  in  the 
fruit  of  their  labor  than  if  they  had  no  real  acquaintance 
with  the  flowers,  but  only  received  them  from  the  hands 
of  a  gardener. 

Dear  reader,  we  must  now  say  farewell  to  our  Nelly. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  clouds  which  darkened  her  child 
hood  and  early  youth  have  passed  never  to  return,  and 
that  although  "  into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall,"  her 
rainy  days  may  be  few  and  far  between. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BRAVE  BOYS. 

I  BELIEVE  I  may  safely  say  that  no  cause  ever  fought 
for,  no  army  ever  raised,  numbered  among  its  adherents 
and  soldiers  so  many  mere  boys  as  rallied  around  "  The 
Bonnie  Blue  Flag,"  bringing  to  its  defence  the  ardor 
of  youth,  added  to  unquestioning  loyalty  and  Spartan 
bravery.  Aye,  more  wonderful,  more  worthy  of  admira 
tion  than  the  bravery  of  the  Spartan  youth,  because" 
our  Southern  boys  had,  up  to  the  beginning  of  the  war, 
known  nothing  of  hardship  or  danger.  Yet  they  met 
with  splendid  courage  all  that  fell  to  their  lot  as  sol 
diers,  fighting  with  an  impetuosity  and  determination 
which  equalled  that  of  the  oldest  veterans.  My  book 
contains  already  many  instances  of  lofty  courage  and 
patient  endurance  as  shown  by  boys.  I  will  add  one  or 
two  incidents  worthy  of  record. 

In  one  of  the  companies  of  the  Third  Lee  Battalion 
was  a  bright  Irish  boy  named  Flannagan,  who  had 
been  brought  to  Virginia  by  one  of  the  officers  as  his 
attendant.  During  the  seven  days'  fight  around  Bich- 
mond  this  child,  having  procured  a  small  shot-gun, 
fought  with  the  best  of  them,  coming  out  safe  and 
sound.  I  learned  this  little  history  from  a  soldier  who 
knew  the  boy.  Flannagan  now  lives  in  Texas. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  boys  of  the  Virginia  Uni 
versity  did  excellent  service  under  "  Stonewall"  Jackson. 
Here  is  a  story  of  some  other  school-boys,  related  to  me 

275 


276  MEMORIES. 

by  their  teacher,  himself  a  bravo  soldier  who  lost  an 
arm  in  one  of  the  battles  around  Kichmond. 

When  Wilson's  raiders  reached  Charlotte  County, 
Virginia,  preparations  were  made  by  the  Home  Guards, 
aided  by  a  few  veterans  who  happened  to  be  home  on 
furlough,  to  check  their  further  progress.  Breastworks 
were  thrown  up  on  the  south  side  of  Stanton  Eiver,  the 
railroad  bridge  was  blockaded,  and  a  gun  placed  in 
position  to  defend  the  passage.  Colonel  Coleman,  who 
was  at  home  on  furlough,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that 
these  precautions  must  be  supplemented  and  supported 
by  rifle-pits  on  the  north  side,  or  no  successful  defence 
could  be  made.  The  pits  were  hastily  dug,  but,  when 
volunteers  were  called  for,  the  extreme  danger  pre 
vented  a  hearty  response.  None  appeared  except  a 
few  old  soldiers  and  six  or  seven  school-boys,  whose 
ages  ranged  from  fourteen  to  sixteen.  The  Yankees 
advanced  in  lino,  in  an  open  plain,  about  two  thousand 
strong.  A  rapid  fire  was  opened  from  the  rifle-pits  and 
from  the  gun  on  the  railroad  bridge. 

After  a  few  minutes  the  enemy  retired,  reformed,  and 
came  on  again,  but  were  again  routed  as  before.  Al 
though  the  boys  held  a  place  where  many  a  veteran 
would  have  quailed,  they  stood  their  ground  nobly,  and 
did  a  soldier's  duty. 

After  the  fight  was  over,  two  of  them  had  a  quarrel 
regarding  a  Federal  officer  whom  both  shot  at  and  both 
claimed  to  have  killed. 

These  were  Virginia  boys,  the  sons  of  veterans,  and 
attending  a  local  school. 

The  raid  came  to  grief  soon  after,  being  routed  by 
Fitz-Hugh  Lee. 

Thomas  Hilton,  of  Union  town,  Alabama,  volunteered 


BRAVE  BOYS.  277 

in  the  "  Witherspoon  Guards,"  Twenty-first  Alabama 
Kegiment,  at  the  tender  age  of  fourteen.  He  was  too 
small  to  carry  a  musket,  and  was  detailed  as  a  drummer 
boy.  At  the  battle  of  Shiloh  he  threw  away  his  drum 
and  so  importuned  his  captain  for  a  gun  that  it  was 
given  him. 

Shortly  after,  while  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  he  was 
shot  through  the  face,  the  ball  entering  one  side  and 
passing  out  at  the  other. 

Kev.  N.  I.  Witherspoon  (chaplain  of  the  regiment) 
found  him  lying  upon  the  ground,  bleeding  to  death  as 
he  then  supposed,  and  knelt  beside  him  to  pray.  To  his 
surprise  the  boy  looked  up,  the  fire  in  his  eyes  un- 
quenched,  and  gasped  out  while  the  blood  gushed  afresh* 
at  every  word, — 

"  Yes — chaplain — I'm — badly  hurt — but — I'm — not — 
whipped." 

Thomas  Hilton  still  lives  in  Uniontown,  Alabama, 
respected  by  all  who  know  him.  His  fellow-citizens 
regard  the  ugly  scar  which  still  appears  upon  his  face 
with  pride  and  reverence. 

The  battle  of  Mansfield,  Louisiana,  was  one  of  the 
most  hotly-contested  and  bloody  of  the  war,  the  loss  in 
men  and  officers  being  terrific.  The  tide  of  battle  rolled 
on,  through  lofty  pine  forests,  amid  tangled  under 
growth,  and  over  open  fields,  where  the  soldiers  were 
exposed  a  to  storm  of  shot  and  shell,  and  where,  on  that 
beautiful  Sunday  morning,  hundreds  of  the  dead  and 
dying  strewed  the  ground.  While  the  battle  was  at  its 
height  it  became  necessary,  in  order  to  secure  concerted 
action,  to  send  dispatches  to  a  certain  point.  The  only 
way  lay  across  a  ploughed  field,  exposed  to  a  terrific 
fire  from  the  enemy,  whose  target  the  messenger  would 
become :  and  it  seemed  as  if  certain  death  must  be  the 

24 


278  MEMORIES. 

fate  of  any  one  who  should  attempt  to  run  the  gauntlet. 
And  yet  the  necessity  was  met.  A  boy  of  eighteen  years 
stepped  forth  from  the  ranks  of  Company  G,  Crescent 
Eegiment,  Louisiana  Volunteers,  and  offered  to  perform 
this  dangerous  service. 

Dashing  on  through  a  perfect  hail  of  shot  and  shell, 
stumbling  and  falling  over  the  furrowed  ground,  strug 
gling  up  and  on  again,  he  passed  unharmed,  successfully 
executing  his  mission.  His  escape  was  so  miraculous 
that  one  can  only  account  for  it  by  the  belief  that  God 
gave  his  angels  charge  concerning  him. 

The  name  of  this  valiant  boy — James  Y.  Nolan — 
should  live  in  history.  He  still  lives,  and  has  been  for 
years  secretary  of  the  Cotton  Exchange  at  Shreveport, 
Louisiana. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    YOUNG    COLOR-BEARER. 

THE  story  of  "  The  Little  Apron"  was  written  up  by 
Major  McDonald,  of  Louisville,  to  be  read  at  a  meeting 
of  veterans  of  Association  Army  of  Northern  Virginia, 
Kentucky  Division.  It  is  true  in  every  particular, — 
indeed,  a  matter  of  history. 

I  have  given  it  a  place  here  because  I  feel  sure  that 
many  of  my  young  readers  will  remember  having  seen 
the  apron  in  question,  and  will  like  to  read  its  full  his 
tory.  It  was  very  kindly  loaned  to  me,  during  the  New 
Orleans  Exposition,  by  Major  McDonald,  and  was  on  ex 
hibition  at  my  tent  ("The  Soldiers'  Rest"),  among  many 
other  Confederate  relics,  where  it  never  ceased  to  be  an 
object  of  profound  interest  and  veneration.  Hundreds 
of  people  handled  it.  Veterans  gazed  upon  it  with 
moistened  eyes.  Women  bedewed  it  with  tears,  and 
often  pressed  kisses  upon  it.  Children  touched  it 
reverently,  listening  with  profound  interest  while  its 
story  was  told.  The  little  apron  was  of  plain  white 
cotton,  bordered  and  belted  with  "turkey  red," — an 
apron  of  "  red,  white,  and  red,"  purposely  made  of  these 
blended  colors  in  order  to  express  sympathy  with  the 
Confederates.  It  yet  bears  several  blood-stains.  The 
button-hole  at  the  back  of  the  belt  is  torn  out,  for  the 
eager  little  patriot  did  not  wait  to  unbutton  it.  There 
is  another  hole,  just  under  the  belt  in  front,  made  when 
the  wounded  boy  tore  it  from  the  staff  to  which  he  had 
nailed  it  to  conceal  it  in  his  bosom.  The  story  as  told 
by  Major  McDonald  is  as  follows : 

279 


280  MEMORIES. 

In  the  spring  of  1863,  while  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  was  encamped  on  the  Eapidan  Eiver,  preparing 
for  that  memorable  campaign  which  included  the  battle 
of  Gettysburg,  there  came  to  it,  from  Hampshire  County, 
Virginia,  a  beardless  boy,  scarcely  eighteen  years  of  age, 
the  eldest  son  of  a  widowed  mother.  His  home  was 
within  the  enemy's  lines,  and  he  had  walked  more  than 
one  hundred  miles  to  offer  his  services  to  assist  in  repel 
ling  a  foe  which  was  then  preying  upon  the  fairest  por 
tions  of  his  native  State.  He  made  application  to  join 
Company  D,  Eleventh  Virginia  Cavalry,  which  was 
made  up  principally  from  his  county,  and,  therefore, 
contained  many  of  his  acquaintances,  and  seemed  much 
surprised  when  told  that  the  Confederate  government 
did  not  furnish  its  cavalry  with  horses  and  equipments. 
Some  members  of  the  company  present,  who  noticed  his 
earnestness  and  the  disappointment  caused  by  this  an 
nouncement  from  the  officer,  said, — 

"Enroll  him,  captain ;  we  will  see  that  he  has  a  horse 
and  equipments  the  next  fight  we  get  into." 

On  faith  ^>f  this  promise  ho  was  enrolled, — James 
M.  Watkins,  Company  D,  Eleventh  Virginia  Cavalry, 
Jones's  Brigade.  Shortly  afterward  the  campaign 
opened  with  the  fight  at  Brandy  Station,  in  which 
twenty  thousand  cavalry  were  engaged  from  daylight 
to  sundown.  Before  the  battle  was  over  Watkins, 
mounted  and  fully  equipped,  took  his  place  with  his 
company.  It  was  not  long  after  this  engagement  that 
General  Lee  advanced  the  whole  army,  and  crossed 
into  Maryland,  Watkins's  command  covering  the  rear. 
During  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  on  the  3d  and  4th  of 
July,  we  were  engaged  several  times  with  the  enemy's 
cavalry  on  our  right,  upon  which  occasions  he  was 
always  found  in  the  front,  and  while  on  the  march  was 
ever  bright  and  cheerful. 


THE   YOU  NO    COLOR-BEARER.  281 

On  the  evening  of  the  4th,  General  Lee,  in  preparation 
for  his  retreat,  began  to  send  his  wagons  to  the  rear  in 
the  direction  of  Williamsport,  when  it  was  found  that 
the  enemy's  cavalry  had  gone  around  our  left  and  taken 
possession  of  a  pass  in  South  Mountain,  through  which 
lay  our  line  of  march.  To  dislodge  them  required  a 
stubborn  fight,  lasting  late  into  the  night,  in  which 
General  Jones's  brigade  was  engaged,  and  he  himself, 
becoming  -separated  from  his  men  in  the  darkness,  was 
supposed  to  have  been  captured  or  killed. 

Finally  the  Federals  were  repulsed,  and  the  wagon- 
train  proceeded  on  its  way  to  Williamsport.  In  the 
morning  Watldns's  command  was  ordered  to  march  on 
the  left  flank  of  the  train  to  prevent  a  renewal  of  the, 
attack  upon  it,  and  on  approaching  Hagerstown  those 
in  the  rear  of  the  column  heard  loud  and  repeated  cheer 
ing  from  the  men  in  front.  After  having  been  in  an 
enemy's  country  fighting  night  and  day,  in  rain  and 
mud,  those  cheers  came  to  those  who  heard  them  in  the 
distance  as  the  first  rays  of  sunshine  after  a  storm. 
Many  were  the  conjectures  as  to  their  cause :  some  said 
it  was  fresh  troops  from  the  other  side  of  the  Potomac; 
others  that  it  was  the  ammunition-wagons,  for  the  sup 
ply  was  known  to  be  short;  while  others  surmised  that 
it  was  General  Jones  reappearing  after  his  supposed 
death  or  capture.  Whatever  the  cause  was,  its  effect 
was  wonderful  upon  the  morale  of  those  men,  and  cheers 
went  up  all  along  the  line  from  those  who  did  not  know 
the  cause  in  answer  to  those  who  did.  When  the  com 
mand  had  reached  a  stone  mill,  about  three  miles  south- 
cast  of  Hagerstown,  they  found  the  cause  only  a  little 
girl  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  perhaps  the  miller's 
daughter,  standing  in  the  door  wearing  an  apron  in 
which  the  colors  were  so  blended  as  to  represent  the 
Confederate  flag.  A  trivial  thing  it  may  seem  to  those 

24* 


282  MEMORIES. 

who  were  not  there,  but  to  those  jaded,  war-worn  men 
it  was  the  first  expression  of  sympathy  for  them  and 
their  cause  that  had  been  openly  given  them  since  they 
had  crossed  the  Potomac,  and  their  cheers  went  up  in 
recognition  of  the  courage  of  the  little  girl  and  her 
parents,  who  thus  dared  to  give  their  sympathy  to  a 
retreating  army,  almost  in  sight  of  a  revengeful  foe. 
When  Company  D  was  passing  the  house  the  captain 
rode  up  and  thanked  the  little  girl  for  having  done  so 
much  to  revive  the  spirits  of  the  troops,  and  asked  her 
if  she  would  give  him  a  piece  of  the  apron  as  a  souvenir 
of  the  incident.  "Yes,  certainly,"  she  replied,  "you 
may  have  it  all,"  and  in  her  enthusiasm  she  tore  it  off, 
not  waiting  to  unbutton  it,  and  handed  it  to  the  officer, 
who  said  it  should  be  the  flag  of  his  company  as  long 
as  it  was  upon  Maryland  soil. 

"Let  me  be  the  color-bearer,  captain,"  said  young 
Watkins,  who  was  by  his  side;  "I  promise  to  protect 
it  with  my  life."  Fastening  it  to  a  staff  he  resumed  his 
place  at  the  head  of  the  company,  which  was  in  the  front 
squadron  of  the  regiment. 

Later  in  the  evening,  in  obedience  to  an  order  brought 
by  a  courier,  the  Eleventh  Cavalry  moved  at  a  gallop 
in  the  direction  of  Williamsport,  whence  the  roll  of 
musketry  and  report  of  cannon  had  been  heard  for  some 
time,  and,  rejoining  the  brigade,  was  engaged  in  a  des 
perate  struggle  to  prevent  the  Federal  cavalry  from 
destroying  the  wagons  of  the  whole  army,  which,  the 
river  being  unfordable,  were  halted  and  parked  at  this 
point,  their  principal  defence  against  the  whole  cavalry 
force  of  the  enemy  being  the  teamsters  and  stragglers  that 
General  Imboden  had  organized.  The  Eleventh  Cavalry 
charged  the  battery  in  front  of  them,  this  gallant  boy 
with  his  apron  flag  riding  side  by  side  with  those  who 
led  the  charge.  The  battery  was  taken  and  retaken, 


THE   YOUNG   COLOR-BEARER.  283 

and  then  taken  again,  before  the  Federals  withdrew 
from  the  field,  followed  in  the  direction  of  Boonsboro', 
until  darkness  covered  their  retreat.  In  those  desperate 
surges  many  went  down  on  both  sides,  and  it  was  not 
until  after  it  was  over  that  men  thought  of  their  com 
rades  and  inquiries  were  made  of  the  missing.  The 
captain  of  Company  D,  looking  over  the  field  for  the 
killed  and  wounded,  found  young  Watkins  lying  on  the 
ground,  his  head  supported  by  the  surgeon.  In  reply  to 
his  question,  "was  he  badly  hurt?"  he  answered,  "Not 
much,  captain,  but  Tve  got  the  flag  1"  and,  putting  his 
hand  in  his  bosom,  he  drew  out  the  little  apron  and  gave 
it  to  the  officer.  When  asked  how  it  came  there,  he 
said  that"  when  he  was  wounded  and  fell  from  his  horse, 
the  Federals  were  all  around  him,  and  to  prevent  them 
from  capturing  it  he  had  torn  it  from  the  staff  and  hid 
it  in  his  bosom. 

The  surgeon  told  the  captain,  aside,  that  his  leg  was 
shattered  by  a  large  piece  of  shell,  which  was  imbedded 
in  the  bone ;  that  amputation  would  be  necessary,  and 
ho  feared  the  wound  was  mortal.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  he 
has  been  so  intent  upon  the  safe  delivery  of  that  apron 
into  your  hands  as  to  seem  utterly  unconscious  of  his 
wound." 

After  parting  with  his  flag  the  brave  boy  sank  rapidly. 
He  was  tenderly  carried  by  his  comrades  back  to  Hagers- 
town,  where  a  hospital  had  been  established,  and  his  leg 
amputated.  The  next  morning  his  captain  found  him  pale 
and  haggard  from  suffering.  By  his  side  was  a  bouquet 
of  flowers,  placed  by  some  kind  friend,  which  seemed  to 
cheer  him  much.  The  third  day  afterward  he  died,  and 
was  buried  in  a  strange  land,  by  strangers'  hands,  with 
out  a  stone  to  mark  the  place  where  he  sleeps. 

Thus  ended  the  mortal  career  of  this  gallant  youth, 
who  had  scarcely  seen  sixty  days'  service ;  but  though 


284  MEMORIES. 

he  lies  in  an  unknown  grave,  he  has  left  behind  a  name 
which  should  outlast  the  most  costly  obelisk  that  wealth 
or  fame  can  erect.  Gentle  as  a  woman,  yet  perfectly 
fearless  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  so  sacred  did  he 
deem  the  trust  confided  to  him  that  he  forgot  even  his  own 
terrible  sufferings  while  defending  it.  Such  names  as 
this  it  is  our  duty  to  rescue  from  oblivion,  and  to  write  on 
the  page  of  history,  where  the  children  of  our  common 
country  may  learn  from  them  lessons  of  virtue  and  self- 
sacrifice.  In  his  character  and  death  he  was  not  isolated 
from  many  of  his  comrades :  he  was  but  a  type  of  many 
men,  young  and  old,  whose  devotion  to  what  is  known 
as  the  "  lost  cause"  made  them  heroes  in  the  fullest  ac 
ceptation  of  the  term,  flinching  from  neither  -suffering 
nor  death  itself  if  coming  to  them  in  the  line  of  duty. 


CHAPTER    IY. 

BRAVERY    HONORED    BY   A    FOE. 

THE  following  story  was  written  out  for  me  by  Eddie 
Souby,  of  New  Orleans,  while  I  was  acting  as  assistant 
editress  of  the  Southern  Bivouac. 

It  was  related  to  him  by  his  father,  E.  J.  Souby,  Esq., 
formerly  a  gallant  soldier  of  the  Fifth  Regiment,  Hay's 
Brigade,  and  now  an  honored  member  of  Association 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  Louisiana  Division.  It  is  a 
true  story  in  every  particular,  and  the  name  of  the  youth 
ful  hero  is  given,  that  it  may  live  in  our  hearts,  and 
be  honored  as  it  deserves,  though  he  who  so  nobly  bore 
it  is  now  dead.  I  wish  that  I  could  also  give  the  name 
of  his  generous  foe, — no  doubt  as  brave  as  generous, — 
the  Federal  officer  who  interposed  his  authority  to  pre 
serve  the  life  of  this  gallant  boy.  They  should  be  re 
corded,  side  by  side,  on  the  same  page  of  history,  and 
be  remembered  with  pride  by  the  youth  of  our  land,  no 
matter  whether  their  fathers  wore  the  blue  or  the  gray 
during  the  late  civil  war. 

Nathan  Cunningham  was  the  name  of  this  young  hero. 
He  was  a  member  of  the  Second  Company  Orleans  Cadets, 
afterwards  Company  E,  Fifth  Regiment,  Louisiana  Vol 
unteers,  Hay's  Brigade,  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  and 
color-bearer  of  the  regiment  at  the  time  the  incident  nar 
rated  below  occurred.  The  story  is  as  follows : 

It  was  a  dark  and  starless  night.  Tattoo-beat  had 
long  been  heard,  and  Hay's  Brigade,  weary  after  a  long 
day's  march,  rested  beneath  the  dewy  boughs  of  gigan- 

286 


286  MEMORIES. 

tic  oaks  in  a  dense  forest  near  the  placid  Eappahannock. 
No  sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night.  The  troops 
were  lying  on  nature's  rude  couch,  sweetly  sleeping,  per 
haps,  little  dreaming  of  the  awful  dawn  which  was  soon 
to  break  upon  them.  The  camp-fires  had  burned  low. 
The  morrow's  rations  had  been  hastily  cooked,  hunger 
appeased,  and  the  balance  laid  carefully  away ;  but  that 
which  was  most  essential  to  life  had,  unfortunately,  been 
neglected.  No  provision  for  water  had  been  made.  The 
springs  being  somewhat  distant  from  the  camp,  but  few 
had  spirit,  after  the  day's  weary  march,  to  go  farther. 
The  canteens  were,  for  the  most  part,  empty. 

Though  thirsting,  the  tired  soldiers  slept,  oblivious  to 
their  physical  sufferings.  But  ere  the  morning  broke, 
the  distant  sound  of  musketry  echoed  through  the 
woods,  rudely  dispelling  the  solemn  silence  of  the  night, 
and  awakening  from  their  broken  dreams  of  homo  and 
kindred  the  whole  mass  of  living  valor. 

The  roll  of  the  drum  and  the  stentorian  voice  of  the 
gallant  chief  calling  to  arms  mingled  together.  Aroused 
to  duty,  and  groping  their  way  through  the  darkness, 
the  troops  sallied  forth  in  battle  array. 

In  a  rifle-pit,  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  overlooking  the 
river,  near  Fredericksburg,  were  men  who  had  exhausted 
their  ammunition  in  the  vain  attempt  to  check  the  ad 
vancing  column  of  Hooker's  finely  equipped  and  disci 
plined  army,  which  was  crossing  the  river.  But  owing 
to  the  heavy  mist  which  prevailed  as  the  morning  broke, 
little  or  no  execution  had  been  done.  To  the  relief  of 
these  few  came  the  brigade  in  double-quick  time.  But 
no  sooner  were  they  intrenched  than  the  firing  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  became  terrific,  and  the  con 
stant  roaring  of  musketry  and  artillery  became  appalling. 

Undismayed,  however,  stood  the  little  band  of  veterans, 
pouring  volley  after  volley  into  the  crossing  column. 


BRAVERY  HONORED   BY  A  FOE.  287 

Soon  many  soldiers  fell.  Their  agonizing  cries,  as 
they  lay  helpless  in  the  trenches,  calling  most  piteously 
for  water,  caused  many  a  tear  to  steal  down  the  cheeks 
of  their  comrades  in  arms,  and  stout  hearts  shook  in  the 
performance  of  their  duty. 

"  Water  1"  "  Water  1"  But,  alas  1  there  was  none  to 
give. 

Boused  as  they  had  been  from  peaceful  dreams  to 
meet  an  assault  so  early  and  so  unexpected,  no  time 
was  left  them  to  do  aught  but  buckle , on  their  armor. 

"  Boys  1"  exclaimed  a  lad  of  eighteen,  the  color-bearer 
of  one  of  the  regiments,  "  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer. 
My  nature  can't  bear  it.  They  want  water,  and  water 
they  must  have.  So  let  me  have  a  few  canteens,  and 
I'll  go  for  some." 

Carefully  laying  the  colors,  which  he  had  conspicu 
ously  borne  on  many  a  field,  in  the  trench,  he  leaped 
out  in  search  of  water,-  and  was  soon,  owing  to  the 
heavy  mist,  out  of  sight. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  firing  ceased  for  a  while,  and 
there  came  a  courier  with  orders  to  fall  back  to  the 
main  line,  a  distance  of  over  twelve  hundred  yards  to 
the  rear.  It  had,  doubtless,  become  evident  to  General 
Lee  that  Hooker  had  crossed  the  river  in  sufficient  force 
to  advance. 

The  retreating  column  had  not  proceeded  far  when  it 
met  the  noble  youth,  his  canteens  all  filled  with  water, 
returning  to  the  sufferers,  who  were  still  lying  in  the 
distant  trenches.  The  eyes  of  the  soldier-boy,  who  had 
oftentimes  tenderly  and  lovingly  gazed  upon  the  war 
worn  and  faded  flag  floating  over  the  ranks,  now  saw  it 
not.  The  troops,  in  their  hurry  to  o*bey  orders  and 
owing,  probably,  to  the  heavy  mist  that  surrounded 
them,  had  overlooked  or  forgotten  the  colors. 

On  sped  the  color-bearer  back  to  the  trenches  to  re- 


288  MEMORIES. 

lieve  the  thirst  of  his  wounded  companions  as  well  as 
to  save  the  honor  of  his  regiment  by  rescuing  its  colors. 

His  mission  of  mercy  was  soon  accomplished.  The 
wounded  men  drank  freely,  thanked  and  blessed  him. 
And  now  to  seize  the  flag  and  double-quick  back  to  his 
regiment  was  the  thought  and  act  of  a  moment.  But 
hardly  had  he  gone  ten  paces  from  the  ditch  when  a 
company  of  Federal  soldiers  appeared  ascending  the 
hill.  The  voice  of  an  officer  sternly  commanded  him  to 
"  Halt  and  surrender!"  The  morning  sun,  piercing  with 
a  lurid  glare  the  dense  mist,  reveals  a  hundred  rifles 
levelled  at  his  breast.  One  moment  more  and  his  soul  is 
to  pass  into  eternity,  for  his  answer  is,  "  Never  while  I 
hold  these  colors." 

But  why  is  he  not  fired  upon  ?  Why  do  we  still  see 
him  with  the  colors  flying  above  his  head,  now  beyond 
the  reach  of  rifle-balls,  when  but  a  moment  before  he 
could  have  been  riddled  with  bullets  ?  And  now,  see ! 
he  enters  proudly  but  breathlessly  the  ranks,  and  re 
ceives  the  congratulations  of  his  friends  in  loud  acclaim. 

The  answer  comes,  because  of  the  generous  act  of  the 
Federal  officer  in  command  of  that  company.  When 
this  noble  officer  saw  that  the  love  of  honor  was  far 
dearer  to  the  youth  than  life,  in  the  impulse  of  a  mag 
nanimous  heart  he  freely  gave  him  both  in  the  word  of 
command, — 

"  Bring  back  your  pieces,  men !  don't  shoot  that  bravo 
boyl" 

Such  nobility  of  character  and  such  a  generous  nature 
as  that  displayed  by  this  officer,  must  ever  remain  a 
living  monument  to  true  greatness;  and  should  these 
lines  perchance  meet  his  eyes,  let  him  know  and  feel 
the  proud  satisfaction  that  the  remembrance  of  his  noble 
deed  is  gratefully  cherished,  and  forever  engraved  in  the 
heart  of  the  soldier-boy  in  gray. 


CHAPTER    V. 

SALLY'S   RIDE. 

ON  a  bright  Sunday  morning  Sally  sat  upon  the  gallery 
of  her  uncle's  house  slowly  swaying  backward  and  for 
ward  in  a  low  rocking-chair.  In  her  hand  was  her 
prayer-book,  but  I  greatly  fear  she  had  not  read  as  she 
ought,  for  while  her  finger  was  held  between  the  shut 
covers,  marking  "  the  Psalms  for  the  day,"  her  bright 
eyes  wandered  continually  over  the  lovely  scene  before 
her.  Above  her  head  branches  of  tender  green  were 
tossing  merrily  in  the  March  wind,  at  her  feet  lay  a 
parterre  bright  with  spring  buds  and  flowers.  Beyond 
the  garden-fence  the  carriage-road  described  a  curve,  and 
swept  away  under  the  lofty  pines  which  here  bounded 
the  view.  On  either  side  lay  fields  of  newly-planted 
cotton.  Behind  the  house,  seen  through  the  wide-open 
doors  and  windows,  the  orchard  gleamed  pink  and  white. 
Still  beyond,  blue  smoke  curled  upward  from  the  cabins 
of  the  negroes  in  "  the  quarter," — almost  a  village  in 
itself.  The  noise  of  their  children  at  play  was  borne 
upon  the  wind,  mingled  with  the  weird  chanting  of 
hymns  by  the  older  negroes.  The  family,  with  the 
exception  of  Sally,  had  gone  to  church, — a  distance  of 
twelve  miles. 

For  weeks  it  had  been  known  that  "  Wilson's  raiders" 
would  be  likely  at  any  time  to  appear;  but  continued 
security  had  lulled  the  apprehensions  of  the  planters 
hereabouts,  and,  besides,  they  depended  upon  Confeder 
ate  scouts  to  give  timely  warning.  But  suddenly  on 
this  peaceful  Sunday  a  confused  noise  from  the  direction 
K  t  25  289 


290  MEMORIES. 

of  "  the  quarter"  startled  Sally,  and  directly  a  crowd 
of  frightened  negroes  ran  to  the  house  with  the  tale 
that  a  party  of  scouts  had  been  driven  in,  reporting  the 
Yankees  approaching  and  only  ten  miles  away. 

The  sense  of  responsibility  which  at  once  took  posses 
sion  oigthe  girl's  mind  overmastered  her  terror.  She, 
as  well  as  a  few  servants  considered  worthy  of  trust, 
had  received  clear  instructions  how  to  act  in  such 
an  emergency;  but  before  anything  could  be  accom 
plished  a  party  of  horsemen  (Confederates)  rode  up, 
and  hastily  giving  information  that  the  Federals  had 
taken  the  "Pleasant  Hill  road,"  dashed  off  again. 
This  knowledge  did  not  relieve  Sally's  mind,  however, 
for  on  the  Pleasant  Hill  road  lay  the  fine  plantation  of 

another  uncle,  Dr.  ,  who  was,  she  knew,  absent. 

The  overseer,  unaware  of  the  approach  of  the  raiders, 
would,  unless  warned,  not  have  time  to  run  off  the 
valuable  horses.  By  the  road  the  enemy  had  taken 
the  distance  was  several  miles,  but  there  was  a  "  short 
cut"  through  the  woods,  which  would  bring  a  rapid 
rider  to  the  plantation  much  sooner,  and  at  once  it 
occurred  to  our  heroine  to  send  a  boy  on  the  only  avail 
able  animal,  an  old  white  mule,  which  had  long  enjoyed 
exemption  from  all  but  light  work  as  a  reward  for  faith 
ful  services  in  the  past.  Alas!  Sally  found  she  had 
"  reckoned  without  her" — negro.  Abject  terror  had  over 
come  even  the  habitual  obedience  of  the  servants,  and 
not  one  would  venture;  they  only  rolled  their  eyes 
wildly,  breaking  forth  into  such  agony  of  protestations 
that  the  girl  ceased  to  urge  them,  and,  dismayed  at  the 
peril  she  was  powerless  to  arrest,  sat  down  to  consider 
matters.  She  knew  that  the  family  had  that  morning 
driven  to  church,  and  so  the  carriage-horses  were  safe 
for  the  present. 

But  there  was  the  doctor's  buggy-horse,  a  magnificent 


SALLY'S  RIDE.  291 

iron-gray,  and  Persimmon,  her  cousin's  riding- horse,  a 
beautiful  cream-colored  mare  with  black,  flowing  mane 
and  tail,  and  Green  Persimmon,  her  colt,  which  was 
like  its  mother,  and  scarcely  less  beautiful.  Besides, 
there  were  horses  and  mules  which,  if  not  so  orna 
mental,  were  indispensable.  Oh,  these  must  be  run  off 
and  saved, — but  how  ?  Goaded  by  these  thoughts,  and 
upon  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  the  girl  ordered  a  side 
saddle  to  be  put  upon  old  "  Whitey,"  and,  hastily  mount 
ing,  belabored  the  astonished  beast  until,  yielding  to  the 
inevitable,  he  started  off  at  a  smart  trot. 

Once  in  the  woods,  Sally's  heart  quailed  within  her; 
her  terror  was  extreme.  The  tramp,  tramp  of  her 
steed  she  thought  was  as.  loud  as  thunder,  and  felt  sure 
that  thus  she  would  be  betrayed.  The  agitation  of  the 
underbrush  caused  by  the  wind  seemed  to  her  to  denote 
the  presence  of  a  concealed  enemy.  She  momentarily 
expected  a  "  Yank"  to  step  from  behind  a  tree  and  seize 
her  bridle.  As  she  rushed  along,  hanging  branches 
(which  at  another  time  she  would  have  stooped  to  avoid) 
severely  scratched  her  face  and  dishevelled  her  hair;  but 
never  heeding,  she  urged  on  old  Whitey  until  he  really 
seemed  to  become  inspired  with  the  spirit  of  the  occa 
sion,  to  regain  his  youthful  fire,  and  so  dashed  on  until 
at  length  Sally  drew  rein  at  the  bars  of  the  horse- 
lot,  where  the  objects  of  her  solicitude  were  quietly 
grazing,  with  the  exception  of  Green  Persimmon,  who 
seemed  to  be  playing  a  series  of  undignified  capers  for 
the  amusement  of  her  elders.  To  catch  these  was  a 
work  of  time:  Sally  looked  on  in  an  agony  of  impa 
tience.  But,  forunately,  a  neighbor  rode  up  just  then 
with  the  news  that  for  some  unknown  reason  the  Fed 
eral  soldiers  had,  after  halting  awhile  just  beyond  the 
forks  of  the  road,  marched  back  to  the  river  and  were 
recrossing.  With  the  usual  inconsistency  of  her  sex, 


292  MEMORIES. 

Sally  now  began  to  cry,  trembling  so  violently  that 
she  was  fain  to  dismount,  and  submit  to  be  coddled 
and  petted  awhile  by  the  old  servants.  She  declared 
that  she  never  could  repass  those  dreadful  woods,  but 
later,  a  sense  of  duty  overcame  her  nervousness,  and 
(the  family  having  returned),  escorted  by  her  cousins 
and  followed  by  a  faithful  servant,  she  returned  to  her 
anxious  friends,  who  in  one  breath  scolded  her  for  hav 
ing  dared  so  great  risks  and  in  the  next  praised  her 
courage  and  devotion. 

****  #**# 

The  visit  of  the  raiders  was,  alas !  not  long  delayed, 
but  its  attendant  horrors  may  not  here  be  described. 
The  terrible  story  may,  perhaps,  be  told  at  another  time, 
— for  the  present,  adieu. 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

THE  following  story,  originally  written  by  me  for  the 
Southern  Bivouac,  is  strictly  true.  The  successful  for 
ager  was  once  a  patient  of  mine,  and  is  well  known  to 
me.  I  also  know  that  he  perpetrated  the  joke  as  de 
scribed.  The  article  is  intended  to  appear  as  if  written 
by  a  soldier's  son. 

HIGH  PRICE   FOR  NEEDLES  AND  THREAD. 
Br  WALTER. 

My  father  was  once  a  private  soldier  in  the  Confederate 
army,  and  he  often  tells  us  interesting  stories  of  the 
war.  One  morning,  just  as  he  was  going  down  town, 
mother  sent  me  to  ask  him  to  change  a  dollar.  He 
could  not  do  it,  but  he  said, — 

"  Ask  your  mother  how  much  change  she  wants." 

She  only  wanted  a  dim-e  to  buy  a  paper  of  needles  and 
some  silk  to  mend  my  jacket.  So  I  went  back  and  asked 
for  ten  cents.  Instead  of  taking  it  out  of  his  vest-pocket, 
father  opened  his  pocket-book  and  said, — 

"  Did  you  say  you  wanted  ten  dollars  or  ten  cents,  my 
boy  ?" 

"  Why,  father,"  said  I,  "  whoever  heard  of  paying  ten 
dollars  for  needles  and  thread  ?" 

"  I  have,"  said  he.  "  I  once  heard  of  a  paper  of  needles, 
and  a  skein  of  silk,  worth  more  than  ten  dollars." 

His  eyes  twinkled  and  looked  so  pleasant  that  I  knew 
there  was  a  story  on  hand,  so  I  told  mother  and  sis'  Loo, 
who  promised  to  find  out  all  about  it.  After  supper 
that  night  mother  coaxed  father  to  tell  us  the  story. 

25*  293 


294  MEMORIES. 

We  liked  it  ever  so  much :  so  I  got  mother  to  write  it 
down  for  the  Bivouac. 

After  the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  one  of  "  our  mess" 
found  a  needle-case  which  had  belonged  to  some  poor 
fellow,  probably  among  the  killed.  He  did  not  place 
much  value  upon  the  contents,  although  there  was  a 
paper  of  No.  8  needles,  several  buttons,  and  a  skein  or 
two  of  thread,  cut  at  each  end  and  neatly  braided  so 
that  each  thread  could  be  smoothly  drawn  out.  He  put 
the  whole  thing  in  his  breast-pocket,  and  thought  no 
more  about  it.  But  one  day,  while  out  foraging  for 
himself  and  his  mess,  he  found  himself  near  a  house 
where  money  could  have  procured  a  fine  meal  of  fried 
chicken,  corn-pone,  and  buttermilk,  besides  a  small 
supply  to  carry  back  to  camp.  But  Confederate  soldiers' 
purses  were  generally  as  empty  as  their  stomachs,  and  in 
this  instance  the  lady  of  the  house  did  not  offer  to  give 
away  her  nice  dinner.  While  the  poor  fellow  was  in 
haling  the  enticing  odor,  and  feeling  desperately  hungry, 
a  girl  rode  up  to  the  gate  on  horseback,  and  bawled  out 
to  another  girl  inside  the  house, — 

"  Oh,  Cindy,  I  rid  over  to  see  if  you  couldn't  lend  me 
a  needle!  I  broke  the  last  one  I  had  to-day,  and  pap 
says  thar  ain't  nary  'nother  to  be  bought  in  the  country 
hereabouts !" 

Cindy  declared  she  was  in  the  same  fix,  and  couldn't 
finish  her  new  homespun  dress  for  that  reason. 

The  soldier  just  then  had  an  idea.  He  retired  to  a 
little  distance,  pulled  out  his  case,  sticking  two  needles 
on  the  front  of  his  jacket,  then  went  back  and  offered 
one  of  them,  with  his  best  bow,  to  the  girl  on  the  horse. 
Eight  away  the  lady  of  the  house  offered  to  trade  for 
the  one  remaining.  The  result  was  a  plentiful  dinner 
for  himself;  and  in  consideration  of  a  thread  or  two  of 
silk,  a  full  haversack  and  canteen. 


HIGH  PRICE  FOR   NEEDLES  AND    THREAD.     295 

After  this  our  mess  was  well  supplied,  and  our  forager 
began  to  look  sleek  and  fat.  The  secret  of  his  success 
did  not  leak  out  till  long  afterward,  when  he  astonished 
the  boys  by  declaring  that  he  u  had  been  *  living  like  a 
fighting-cock'  on  a  paper  of  needles  and  two  skeins  of 
silk." 

"And,"  added  father,  "  if  he  had  paid  for  all  the  meals 
he  got  in  Confederate  money,  the  amount  would  have 
been  far  more  than  ten  dollars." 

I  know  other  boys  and  girls  will  think  this  a  queer 
story,  but  I  hope  they  will  like  it  as  well  as  mother  and 
Loo  and  I  did. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

BUNNY. 

» 

ONE  bright  morning  I  sat  in  the  matron's  room  of  the 
"  Buckner  Hospital,"  then  located  at  Newnan,  Georgia. 
Shall  I  describe  to  you  this  room — or  my  suite  of  rooms  ? 
Indeed,  I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed,  dear  young 
readers,  for  perhaps  the  word  "  hospital"  conveys  to 
your  mind  the  idea  of  a  handsome  and  lofty  building 
containing  every  convenience  for  nursing  the  sick,  and 
for  the  comfort  of  attendants.  Alasl  during  the  war 
hospital  arrangements  were  of  the  roughest.  Frequent 
changes  of  location  were  imperative,  transportation 
was  difficult.  So  it  became  a  "  military  necessity"  to 
seize  upon  such  buildings  as  were  suitable  in  the  towns 
where  it  was  intended  to  establish  a  "post."  Court 
houses,  halls,  stores,  hotels,  even  churches  had  to  be 
used, — the  pews  being  removed  and  replaced  by  the 
rough  hospital  beds. 

The  "  Buckner  Hospital"  was  expected  to  accommo 
date  nearly  one  thousand  sick  and  wounded,  and  em 
braced  every  building  for  two  solid  squares.  Near  the 
centre  a  small  store  had  been  appropriated  to  the  ma 
tron's  use  during  the  day.  Here  all  business  relating  to 
the  comfort  of  the  sick  and  wounded  was  transacted. 
The  store  as  it  stood,  shelves,  counters,  and  all,  became 
the  "linen-room,"  and  was  piled  from  floor  to  ceiling 
with  bedding  and  clean  clothing.  The  back  "  shed-room" 
was  the  matron's  own.  A  rough  table,  planed  on  the 
top,  stood  in  the  centre.  With  the  exception  of  one 
296 


BUNNY.  297 

large  rocking-chair,  kindly  donated  by  a  lady  of  King- 
gold,  Georgia,  boxes  served  for  chairs.  A  couch  made 
of  boxes  and  piled  with  comforts  and  pillows  stood  in 
one  corner.  This  served  not  only  as  an  occasional  rest 
ing-place  for  the  matron,  but,  with  the  arm-chair,  was 
frequently  occupied  by  soldiers  who,  in  the  early  stages 
of  convalescence,  having  made  a  pilgrimage  to  my  room, 
were  too  weak  to  return  at  once,  and  so  rested  awhile. 

Here  I  sat  on  the  morning  in  question  looking  over 
some  "  diet  lists,"  when  I  heard  a  slight  noise  at  the 
door.  Soon  a  little  girl  edged  her  way  into  the  room. 

Her  dress  was  plain  and  faded,  but  when  she  pushed 
back  the  calico  sun-bonnet  a  sweet,  bright  face  appeared. 
She  came  forward  as  shyly  as  a  little  bird  and  stood  at" 
my  side.  As  I  put  out  my  hand  to  draw  her  closer,  she 
cried,  "  Don't,  you'll  scare  him !" 

And  then  I  perceived  that  she  held  close  to  her  breast, 
wrapped  in  her  check  apron,  something  that  moved  and 
trembled.  Carefully  the  little  girl  removed  a  corner  of 
the  apron,  disclosing  the  gray  head  and  frightened  eyes 
of  a  squirrel.  Said  she,  "It's  Bunny;  he's  mine;  I 
raised  him,  and  I  want  to  give  him  to  the  sick  soldiers ! 
Daddy's  a  soldier  I"  And  as  she  stated  this  last  fact  the 
sweet  face  took  on  a  look  of  pride. 

"  What  is  your  name,  and  how  did  you  get  here  ?"  I 
said. 

"  My  name  is  Ca-line.  Uncle  Jack,  he  brung  in  a 
load  of  truck,  and  mammy  let  me  come  along,  an'  I 
didn't  have  nothing  to  fetch  to  the  poor  soldiers  but 
Bunny.  He's  mine,"  she  repeated,  as  she  tenderly 
covered  again  the  trembling  little  creature.  I  soon  found 
that  she  desired  to  give  the  squirrel  away  with  her  own 
hands,  and  did  not  by  any  means  consider  me  a  sick  sol 
dier.  That  she  should  visit  the  fever-wards  was  out  of 
the  question,  so  I  decided  to  go  with  her  to  a  ward 


298  MEMORIES. 

where  were  some  wounded  men,  most  of  whom  were 
convalescent.  My  own  eyes,  alas  I  were  so  accustomed 
to  the  sight  of  the  pale,  suffering  faces,  empty  sleeves, 
and  dreadful  scars,  that  I  did  not  dream  of  the  effect  it 
would  have  upon  the  child. 

As  we  entered  she  dropped  my  hand,  clinging  con 
vulsively  to  my  dress.  Addressing  the  soldiers,  I  said, 
"  Boys,  little  Ca-line  has  brought  you  her  pet  squirrel ; 
her  father  is  a  soldier,  she  says."  But  here  the  poor 
child  broke  down  utterly ;  from  her  pale  lips  came  a  cry 
which  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  brave  men  who 
surrounded  her:  "Oh,  daddy,  daddy;  I  don't  want  you 
to  be  a  soldier!  Oh,  lady,  will  they  do  my  daddy  like 
this?" 

Hastily  retreating,  I  led  the  tortured  child  to  my 
room,  where  at  last  she  recovered  herself.  I  gave  her 
lunch,  feeding  Bunny  with  some  corn-bread,  which  he 
ate,  sitting  on  the  table  by  his  little  mistress,  his  bright 
eyes  fixed  warily  upon  me.  A  knock  at  the  door 
startled  us.  The  child  quickly  snatched  up  her  pet 
and  hid  him  in  her  apron.  The  visitor  proved  to  be 
"  Uncle  Jack,"  a  white-headed  old  negro,  who  had  come 
for  "  little  Missy." 

Tears  came  to  my  eyes  as  I  watched  the  struggle 
which  at  once  began  in  that  brave  little  heart.  Her 
streaming  eyes  and  heaving  breast  showed  how  hard  it 
was  to  give  up  Bunny.  Uncle  Jack  was  impatient,  how 
ever,  and  at  last  "Missy"  thrust  the  squirrel  into  my 
hands,  saying,  sobbingly,  "Thar,  you  keep  him  to  show 
to  'em,  but  don't  let  nothin'  hurt  him."  I  arose  and 
placed  Bunny  in  the  deep  pocket  of  an  army  over 
coat  that  hung  by  the  window,  where  he  cuddled 
down  contentedly.  Ca-line  passed  out  with  a  lagging 
step,  but  in  a  few  moments  ran  back,  and,  drawing  a 
box  under  the  window,  climbed  upon  it  to  peep  into  the 


BUNNY.  299 

pocket  at  her  pet,  who  ungratefully  growled  at  being 
disturbed.  She  then  ran  out  without  a  word  to  me, 
and  I  saw  her  no  more. 

Bunny  soon  attached  himself  to  me.  Creeping  into 
my  pocket,  he  would  always  accompany  me  in  my 
rounds  through  the  wards.  The  sick  and  wounded 
took  the  greatest  delight  in  his  visits.  As  soon  as  I  en 
tered  the  door  the  squirrel  would  run  up  on  my  shoulder; 
from  thence,  jumping  upon  the  beds,  would  proceed 
to  search  for  the  treasures  which  nearly  every  patient 
had  saved  and  hidden  for  him.  His  capers  were  a 
source  of  unceasing  amusement  to  his  soldier  friends, — 
I  cannot  describe  to  you  how  great.  The  story  of  little 
Ca-line's  self-sacrifice  went  the  rounds  among  them. 
All  admired  and  truly  appreciated  her  heroism  and  her 
love  for  "  the  poor,  sick  soldiers." 

Bunny  lived  happily  for  a  long  time.  One  day,  how 
ever,  as  I  was  passing  along  the  street,  he  began  as 
usual  to  run  from  out  my  pocket  to  my  shoulder,  and 
back  again  to  nestle  in  his  hiding-place. 

Just  then  a  large  dog  came  by.  The  frightened 
squirrel  made  a  vain  attempt  to  reach  a  tree  by  the 
road-side.  Failing,  he  was  at  once  seized  and  instantly 
killed.  My  regret  was  shared  by  all  the  soldiers,  who 
long  remembered  and  talked  of  poor  Bunny. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

* 

BEAUREGARD. 

ONE  very  cold  day  in  the  winter  of  1862  there  came 
to  the  Third  Alabama  Hospital,  in  Richmond,  Virginia,  a 
sick  soldier,  belonging  to  the  Third  Alabama  Regiment. 
He  was  shivering,  and  so  hoarse  that  he  could  only 
speak  in  whispers.  Instead  of  going  at  once  to  bed, 
however,  he  sat  down  upon  a  bench  by  the  stove,  keep 
ing  his  blanket  drawn  closely  over  his  chest.  His  teeth 
were  chattering,  and  continued  to  do  so  until  I  ordered 
him  to  go  to  his  bed  immediately,  meanwhile  hastening 
down-stairs  to  prepare  for  him  a  hot  drink.  Upon  my 
return,  my  patient  was  in  bed,  closely  covered  up, — head 
and  all.  As  soon  as  I  turned  down  the  bedclothes  from 
his  face,  I  was  startled  by  a  furious  er-r-r-r  bow-wow, 
wow,  wow,  which  also  attracted  the  attention  of  every 
one  in  the  large  ward.  Of  course  it  was  impossible 
longer  to  conceal  the  fact  that  the  new  patient  had 
brought  with  him  a  dog,  so  he  showed  me — nestling 
under  his  arm — a  young  Newfoundland  puppy,  looking 
like  nothing  so  much  as  a  fluffy  black  ball.  His  bright 
eyes  gleamed  fiercely  and  he  continued  to  bark  in  a  shrill 
tone,  which  could  not  be  allowed  to  continue,  as  it  ex 
cited  and  disturbed  the  sick.  I  am  a  lover  of  dogs,  and 
now  offered  to  take  charge  of  this  little  waif.  His 
master  was  unwilling  to  part  with  him,  but  there  was 
no  alternative,  so  I  carried  him  off  down-stairs,  where, 
installed  in  comfortable  quarters  and  petted  by  every 
body,  the  ungrateful  little  dog  seemed  to  forget  the  sick 
800 


BEAU  REGARD.  301 

master  who  had  cherished  him  so  fondly,  and,  far  from 
grieving  or  moping  at  the  separation,  grew  every  day 
more  frolicsome.  From  the  soldier  I  learned  the  history 
of  his  dog.  He  said, — 

"Shortly  before  I  was  sent  to  the  hospital  our  regi 
ment  captured  a  Federal  camp.  Among  the  plunder  I 
found  that  little  fellow  curled  up  in  a  camp-bed  that 
some  Yankee  had  just  got  out  of,  and  as  warm  as  toast. 
He  seemed  to  take  to  me  right  off.  I  reckon  the  Yankee 
had  a  name  for  him,  but  I  call  him  l  Beauregard.'  The 
poor  fellow  has  had  a  hard  time  since  I  got  him,  for 
rations  in  the  valley  are  poor  and  scant,  but  Tve  done 
with  less  so  he  could  have  a  bite,  and  I  tell  you  he  has 
kept  me  warm  a  many  a  night." 

However,  when  the  soldier  was  ready  to  return  to 
camp,  Beauregard  had  grown  quite  too  large  to  be 
carried  in  his  master's  bosom.  So  he  was  given  to  my 
little  son,  and  remained  to  claim  our  care  and  to  become 
an  object  of  interest  to  all  inmates  of  the  hospital.  It 
became  so  much  a  matter  of  course  for  me  to  take  the 
dog  with  me  on  my  morning  rounds  through  the  wards 
that  whenever  he  was  left  behind,  my  patients  never 
failed  to  miss  him,  and  to  inquire,  "  Where's  the  gen 
eral  to-day?"  He  was  very  intelligent,  easily  learning 
to  trot  quietly  along  down  the  rows  of  beds.  If  he 
ever  grew  too  frisky,  I  had  only  to  stop  short,  pointing 
to  the  entrance,  when  down  would  drop  his  tail,  and  he 
was  off  like  a  shot  to  the  yard.  There  he  awaited 
my  coming,  always  looking  anxiously  in  my  face  to 
see  if  I  was  still  angry.  When  I  would  ask,  "  Are  you 
sorry,  Beau?"  he  would  whine  and  come  crawling  to  my 
feet.  As  soon  as  he  heard  me  say  "  All  right,"  he  began 
to  bound  and  run  around  in  a  circle  and  in  other  ways 
to  show  his  joy. 

Among  the  patients  he  had  many  warm  friends  who 
26 


302  MEMORIES. 

used  to  take  great  pleasure  in  saving  scraps  to  feed  him 
with.  They  also  loved  to  tease  him  by  wrapping  some 
nice  morsel  in  many  papers.  The  parcel  was  then  hidden. 
Beauregard  knew  just  which  beds  to  stop  at,  and,  greatly 
to  the  delight  of  his  friends,  would  put  his  paws  upon 
the  bunks  and  "nose  about"  under  the  mattress  or 
pillows  for  the  bundles  there  hidden.  After  many  at 
tempts  to  get  through  the  many  papers  in  which  lay  a 
coveted  morsel,  he  would  grow  impatient  and  disgusted, 
and  would  at  last  sit  down,  looking  earnestly  first  at 
the  inmate  of  the  bed,  then  at  the  parcel  on  the  floor. 
Then,  if  he  was  not  helped,  he  would  push  the  bed  with 
his  paw,  until  at  last  he  succeeded  in  gaining  his  wish. 

Early  in  the  spring  Beau  fell  into  some  disgrace, 
for  while  romping  with  my  little  boy  he  threw  him 
down  and  broke  his  arm.  Everybody  scolded  the  poor 
dog,  crying  shame  on  him  wherever  he  appeared,  until 
he  got  a  habit  of  slinking  out  of  sight.  Before  the 
broken  arm  was  quite  well,  little  Wally  grew  very  ill 
of  typhoid  fever,  so  ill  that  his  papa  was  sent  for,  for  it 
seemed  that  he  must  die.  Beauregard  attached  him 
self  very  closely  to  my  husband,  rarely  leaving  his 
side.  When  his  new  master  returned  to  camp,  I  went 
down  to  the  boat  to  see  him  off.  The  dog  followed  us. 
The  boat  was  crowded  with  soldiers  going  to  reinforce 
McGruder,  so  I  did  not  go  on  board,  but  when  ready  to 
return  discovered  that  Beau  was  missing.  The  first 
letter  from  my  husband  announced  that  the  dog  had 
followed  his  master  on  the  boat,  where  he  must  have 
hidden,  for  his  presence  was  not  discovered  until  some 
time  after  the  boat  had  left  the  wharf.  In  camp  he  be 
came  a  terrible  nuisance.  No  matter  how  securely  he 
was  tied,  the  dog  always  managed  to  escape  and  attend 
the  drill.  Here  he  would  sometimes  sit  down  and 
gravely  watch  the  proceedings,  cocking  his  head  first 


BE  A  UREQA  RD.  303 

on  one  side,  then  on  the  other,  but  usually  ho  would 
rush  into  the  ranks  to  find  his  master,  getting  under  the 
feet  of  the  men,  who  in  consequence  lost  step  and  got 
out  of  line,  of  course  becoming  very  angry.  The  shells 
frequently  exploding  in  the  vicinity  became  a  constant 
terror  to  this  unfortunate,  who  knew  not  how  to  avoid 
them.  He  soon  learned  to  distinguish  the  shriek  of  a 
coming  shell,  and  would  race  off  in  one  direction,  look 
ing  fearfully  back  over  his  shoulder,  until  a  similar 
sound  in  another  quarter  would  so  puzzle  and  terrify 
him  that  he  would  stand  still  awhile  until  the  noise  of 
an  explosion  utterly  demoralized  him,  when  he  would 
frantically  dig  up  the  ground,  as  if  trying  to  bury  him 
self. 

I  am  afraid  I  must  acknowledge  that  my  dog  was 
not  strictly  honest.  In  fact,  his  depredations  upon  their 
larders  won  for  him  the  undying  hatred  of  the  colored 
cooks  of  various  messes,  who  were  always  seeking  re 
venge.  Their  dislike  culminated  one  day  in  a  dreadful 
scalding,  inflicted  upon  the  poor  dog  by  the  cook  of  an 
officers'  mess,  who  poured  a  whole  kettle  of  boiling 
water  upon  his  back,  causing  him  weeks  of  suffering 
and  the  loss  of  part  of  his  beautiful  glossy  coat.  This 
seemed  to  have  implanted  in  his  mind  a  profound  dis 
trust  of  negroes,  which  he  never  ceased  to  entertain 
until  the  day  of  his  death.  After  this  Beauregard  was 
sent  up  to  Eichmond  that  I  might  cure  his  wound;  this 
I  was  more  easily  enabled  to  do,  as  my  friends  among 
the  surgeons  kindly  advised  and  assisted  me.  He  was 
soon  quite  well,  the  growing  hair  nearly  concealing 
his  scars.  When  I  left  Eichmond  with  my  little  boy, 
Beau  accompanied  us,  and  found  a  permanent  home 
upon  the  plantation  of  a  relative  in  Alabama.  It  was 
here  that  he  first  showed  his  extreme  dislike  for  negroes, 
which  attracted  attention  and  became  unmistakable. 


304  MEMORIES. 

At  first  it  gave  much  trouble,  but  gradually  he  grew 
tolerant  of  the  servants  upon  the  "  home-place,"  al 
though  he  never  took  kindly  even  to  these.  He  never 
forgot  that  he  had  been  scalded.  At  any  time  steam 
arising  from  a  boiling  tea-kettle  or  pot  would  send  him 
yelping  away.  I  remember  hearing  the  youngsters  say 
that  once  when  Beauregard  had  followed  them  miles  into 
the  woods,  seeming  to  enjoy  the  tramp  and  the  hunt, 
they  having  decided  to  have  a  lunch  of  broiled  birds, 
heated  some  water  in  a  camp-kettle  to  scald  them  pre 
paratory  to  picking  off  the  feathers.  As  soon  as  the 
birds  were  dipped  into  the  water  and  taken  out  steam 
ing,  the  dog  set  out  for  home,  where  they  found  him, 
upon  their  return,  hiding  under  a  corn-crib. 

Although,  as  I  said  before,  Beau  became  used  to  the 
servants  whom  he  saw  every  day  upon  the  home-place, 
no  strange  negro  dared  to  come  inside  the  big  gate 
unless  accompanied  by  one  of  the  family.  Whenever 
the  deep,  hoarse  bark  of  Beauregard  announced  the 
appearance  of  strangers,  it  was  known  that  the  dog 
must  be  chained.  Not  once,  but  many  times,  I  have 
seen  a  load  of  "  fodder"  or  "  garden-truck"  driven  into 
the  yard  and  immediately  surrounded  by  this  one  big  dog, 
who  would  keep  the  black  driver  crouching  at  the  very 
top  of  the  load  with  "  ashy"  face-  and  chattering  teeth, 
while  his  besieger  walked  growling  around  the  wagon, 
occasionally  jumping  up  upon  the  chance  of  seizing  an 
unguarded  foot.  Until  the  dog  was  securely  chained 
nothing  would  induce  his  prisoner  to  venture  down. 
No  chicken-thieves  dared  to  put  in  an  appearance  so 
long  as  this  faithful  beast  kept  watch  upon  the  premises. 
And  for  his  faithfulness  he  was  doomed  to  destruction. 
Such  a  state  of  security  in  any  place  could  not  long  be 
tolerated.  The  would-be  thieves,  exasperated  by  the 
impunity  with  which  fine,  fat  turkeys,  geese,  ducks,  and 


BEA  UREQARD.  305 

chickens  walked  about  before  their  very  eyes,  and 
smoke-houses,  melon-patches,  and  wood-piles  remained 
undisturbed,  at  last  poisoned  faithful  Beauregard,  whose 
death  left  the  home-place  unprotected,  for  not  one  of 
his  successors  ever  followed  his  example  or  proved  half 
as  watchful. 


28« 


PART     III. 

AFT  Eli    TWENTY     YEARS.* 


CHAPTER    T. 

"MY    BOYS." 

Address  to  the  Wives  and  Children  of  Confederate  Veterans. 

I  HAVE  been  often  and  earnestly  requested  by  "my 
comrades"  to  address  to  you  a  few  words  explanatory 
of  the  tie  which  binds  me  to  them  and  them  to  me. 
They  tell  me,  among  other  things,  that  you  "  wonder 
much,  and  still  the  wonder  grows,"  that  I  should  pre 
sume  to  call  grave  and  dignified  husbands  and  fathers 
"  my  boys."  Having  promised  to  meet  their  wishes,  I 
must  in  advance  apologize  for  the  egoism  which  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  avoid,  as  my  own  war  record  is  inseparable 
from  that  of  my  comrades. 

Does  it  seem  strange  to  you  that  I  call  these  bronzed 
and  bearded  men  "my  boys?"  Ah,  friends,  in  every 
time-worn  face  there  lives  always  for  me  "  the  light  of 
other  days."  Memory  annihilates  the  distance  between 
the  long-ago  and  the  present. 

I  seem  to  see  them  marching,  with  brave,  bright  faces 
and  eager  feet,  to  meet  the  foe.  I  hear  the  distant  boom 
of  cannon,  growing  fainter  as  they  press  the  retreating 
enemy.  And  then,  alasl  many  come  back  to  me  muti 
lated,  bleeding,  dying,  yet  with  ardor  unquenched,  re- 

*  These  articles,  originally  prepared  for  The  Southern  Bivouac  and 
"South  Illustrated,"  are  here  republished  by  special  request. 
306 


"  MY  BOYS.1'  307 

pressing  moans  of  anguish  that  they  may  listen  for  the 
shout  of  victory:  wrestling  fiercely  with  the  King  of 
Terrors,  not  that  they  fear  to  die,  but  because  his  chill 
grasp  palsies  the  arm  that  would  fain  strike  another  blow 
for  the  right. 

I  stood  among  the  sick  and  wounded  lying  in  a  hos 
pital  in  Eichmond,  Virginia,  while  the  magnificent  Army 
of  Northern  Yirginia  was  passing  from  the  scene  of  their 
late  glorious  victory  at  Manassas  to  meet  the  invaders 
under  McClellan,  who  were  marching  upon  the  Penin 
sula.  Around  me  lay  many  sick  and  wounded  men, 
gathered  under  the  immense  roof  of  a  tobacco  factory, 
which  covered  nearly  a  whole  square.  Its  windows 
commanded  a  full  view  of  the  legions  passing  on  both 
sides. 

The  scene  I  can  never  forget.  As  the  strains  of  mar 
tial  music  fell  upon  the  summer  air,  pale,  gaunt  forms 
struggled  to  their  feet,  feebly  but  eagerly  donned  clothes 
and  accoutrements,  and,  staggering  under  their  weight, 
crept  to  the  office  of  the  surgeon  in  charge,  piteously 
begging  that  they  might  "  get  to  go  on  with  the  boys." 
Many,  too  weak  to  rise,  broke  into  bitter  sobs:  tears 
poured  from  eyes  bright  with  fever  or  dim  with  the 
shadow  of  death.  Passing  among  these,  I  was  startled 
to  see  a  patient,  whom  all  had  supposed  to  be  dying, 
sitting  up  in  bed.  Stretching  his  arms  toward  me,  he 
cried  out,  u  Lady,  lady,  come  here  1"  He  was  a  boy  of 
sixteen  years,  one  of  the  glorious  Third  Alabama,  and 
he  begged  so  hard  to  be  allowed  to  see  "  the  boys"  that 
I  had  his  bunk  drawn  up  to  an  open  window,  support 
ing  him  in  my  arms  so  that  he  could  see.  When  his 
own  regiment  passed,  he  tried  with  faltering  breath  to 
cheer,  but,  failing,  waved  his  feeble  hand,  gasping  out, 
"  God  knows,  I  wish  I  could  be  with  you,  boys,  but 
'pears  like  the  heavenly  Master  ain't  willing." 


308  MEMORIES. 

His  comrades  passed  on.  The  boy  was  borne  back  to 
his  place,  whence,  in  a  few  hours,  he  passed  beyond  all 
pain  and  disappointment. 

I  need  not  mention  here  the  magnificent  record  of  the 
army  that  passed  that  day  the  streets  of  Eichmond. 
The  pages  of  history  are  ablaze  with  the  glory  of  it. 
Not  less  glorious  to  me  are  the  records  written  in  my 
heart  of  heroic  fortitude,  patient  endurance,  sublime 
resignation.  Alas  for  my  poor,  worn,  shattered,  suffer- 
ing,  dying  boys!  how  their  souls  were  tried,  yet  never 
found  wanting  I 

The  fortunes  of  war  led  me  from  the  scenes  of  my  first 
service  to  rejoin  my  husband,  who  had  been  ordered  to 
the  Army  of  Tennessee.  On  my  journey,  and  while 
waiting  to  be  assigned  to  duty,  I  lingered  for  a  while 
among  the  homes  of  Southern  soldiers.  How  can  I 
convey  to  you  the  impressions  there  received  ? 

Here  lay  the  main-spring  of  the  valor  which  then  and 
long  afterward  astonished  the  world.  In  the  towns  and 
near  the  front  thousands  of  women  daily  ministered  to 
the  sick  and  wounded.  When  a  battle  ended,  these 
could  soon  know  the  fate  of  loved  ones,  perhaps  were 
permitted  to  nurse  them,  to  attend  their  dying  hour, 
or — inestimable  privilege — reclaim  the  precious  casket 
which  had  enshrined  a  gallant  soul.  But  in  many  a  coun 
try  home  women  endured,  day  after  day,  crucifixion  of 
the  soul,  yet  heroically,  patiently,  toiled  and  prayed  on. 
Startled  by  flying  rumors,  tortured  by  suspense,  weary 
with  unwonted  labor,  they  never  dreamed  of  leaving 
the  post  of  duty  or  of  neglecting  the  interests  confided 
to  their  care.  No  comforter  had  they  save  their  God, 
no  resource  but  unwearied  prayer. 

Memory  brings  back  to  me  a  scone  which  sadly  illus 
trates  the  exalted  courage  and  faith  of  these  noble 
women.  I  was  present  one  night  when,  at  a  plantation 


"JMT  EOFS."  309 

home,  the  family  and  servants  were  assembled,  as  usual, 
for  prayers.  The  aged  father  led  the  worship,  but, 
while  praying  for  the  absent  sons,  two  of  whom  had 
already  fallen  in  battle,  he  faltered  and  ceased.  In 
stantly  the  clear,  sweet  voice  of  the  mother  was  heard 
as  she  prayed  fervently,  not  only  for  the  dear  ones  at 
the  front,  but  for  the  holy  cause,  for  other  parents,  other 
sons,  and  for  strength  to  submit  to  God's  will. 

I  have,  sitting  by  the  bedside  of  sick  or  wounded  sol 
diers,  read  to  them  letters  from  just  such  homes,  breath 
ing  lofty  courage,  full  of  cheer,  although  I  knew  that 
the  hearts  of  the  writers  had  been  almost  breaking,  the 
fingers  that  penned  them  stiff  and  trembling  with  toil 
hitherto  unknown.  God  bless  the  women  of  the  South. 

If  from  every  wreath  that  ever  adorned  the  brow  of 
a  hero  the  brightest  laurels  were  plucked,  all  would  not 
form  an  offering  too  resplendent  to  lay  at  their  feet. 

Soon  after  the  battle  of  Shiloh  began  my  service  with 
the  Army  of  Tennessee.  How  shall  I  make  you  under 
stand,  dear  friends,  how  strong,  how  dear,  how  imperish 
able  are  the  ties  which  bind  me  to  these  grand  and 
noble  heroes, — the  true,  brave  boys  with  whom  I  shared 
until  the  bitter  end  their  trials  and  glory.  Heroic  souls 
who  bore  with  equal  fortitude  and  transcendent  bravery 
alike  the  shock  of  battle,  the  pangs  of  "  hope  deferred," 
the  untold  hardships  which  soon  became  their  daily 
portion.  Their  bleeding  feet  dyed  alike  the  snows  of 
Georgia  and  the  rocky  mountain  paths  of  Tennessee. 

As  their  ranks  were  decimated  by  battle,  disease, 
starvation,  death,  the  hearts  that  were  left  swelled 
higher  and  higher  with  holy  zeal,  sublime  courage. 
Night  after  night,  with  lagging,  unwilling  feet,  they 
made  the  hated  retreat. 

Day  after  day  the  sun  shone  on  those  defiant  faces  as 
they  presented  a  still  unbroken  front  and  hurled  them- 


310  MEMORIES. 

selves  again  and  again  against  the  invaders,  contesting 
every  inch  of  the  land  they  loved. 

Ah,  the  horrors  of  those  latter  days,  when  daily, 
almost  hourly,  brought  to  me  ghastly  wrecks  of  man 
hood,  when  my  ears  were  always  filled  with  the  moans 
of  the  dying,  or  irrepressible  agonizing  shrieks  of  those 
who  were  undergoing  the  torture  of  the  surgeon's  knife 
without  the  blessed  aid  of  chloroform,  for  that  was  con 
traband  of  war.  Do  you  wonder,  then,  that  I  love  to 
call  those  comrades  of  mine  "  my  boys"  ?  Whether  they 
served  in  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  or  the  Army 
of  Tennessee,  they  were  all  alike  my  comrades.  Their 
precious  blood  has  often  dyed  my  own  garments.  I 
have  gone  down  with  them  to  the  very  gates  of  death, 
wrestling  with  the  death  angel  every  step  of  the  way, 
sometimes  only  to  receive  their  last  sighs  as  they  passed 
into  the  valley  of  the  shadow,  sometimes  permitted 
to  guide  their  feeble  feet  once  more  into  the  paths  of 
glory. 

I  have  shared  their  rations,  plain  but  plentiful  at  first, 
at  the  last  only  a  mouldy  crust  and  a  bit  of  rusty  bacon. 
I  have  been  upon  an  ambulance-train  freighted  with 
human  agony  delayed  for  hours  by  rumors  of  an  enemy 
in  ambush.  I  have  fed  men  hungry  with  the  ravening 
hunger  of  the  wounded  with  scanty  rations  of  musty 
corn-bread ;  have  seen  them  drink  eagerly  of  foetid 
water,  dipped  from  the  road-side  ditches.  Yet  they 
bore  it  all  with  supreme  patience ;  fretted  and  chafed, 
it  is  true,  but  only  on  account  of  enforced  inactivity. 
I  have  packed  haversacks  with  marching  rations  for 
forty-eight  hours,  a  single  corn-dodger  split  and  with 
only  a  thin  slice  of  bacon  between  the  pieces.  This 
was  a  Confederate  sandwich.  And  on  such  food  South 
ern  soldiers  marched  incredible  distances,  fought  des 
perate  battles.  The  world  will  never  cease  to  wonder 


BOYS."  311 

at  the  unfailing  devotion,  the  magnificent  courage,  the 
unparalleled  achievements  of  the  Southern  armies. 
Scarcely  less  admirable  is  the  heroic  spirit  in  which 
they  have  accepted  defeat ;  the  industry  which  has 
hidden  the  desolation  of  our  land  with  bountiful  harvest, 
the  honesty  of  purpose  which  now  seeks  to  restore  the 
constitution  framed  by  our  forefathers  as  it  was,  the 
patient  yet  invincible  determination  which  has  driven 
out  tyranny  and  oppression,  and  reclaimed  for  posterity 
this  beautiful  Southland,  rich  with  historic  memories, 
made  sacred  and  beautiful  by  the  graves  of  heroes. 

And  these  are  my  boys — still — always  my  boys.  From 
the  highest  places  of  the  land  they  turn  to  give  me  a 
comrade's  greeting.  I  glory  in  the  renown  of  these,  but 
just  as  dear  and  precious  to  me  is  the  warm  grasp  of 
the  toil-hardened  hand  and  the  smile  which  beams  upon 
me  from  the  rugged  face  of  the  very  humblest  of  "  the 
boys  who  wore  the  gray." 

Dear  friends,  this  subject  is  to  me  inexhaustible;  but  I 
may  no  longer  trespass  upon  your  patience.  With 
loving,  reverent  hands  I  have  lifted  the  veil  of  the  past. 
Let  the  transcendent  glory  streaming  through  penetrate 
the  mask  which  time  and  care  and  sorrow  have  woven 
for  the  faces  of  my  boys,  and  show  you  the  brave,  un 
faltering  hearts  as  I  know  them. 


CHAPTBK    II. 

THE   CONFEDERATE   REUNION   AT   DALLAS. 

ON  the  morning  of  August  6,  1885,  a  small  party  of 
ladies  and  gentlemen  set  forth  from  Shreveport  to  attend 
the  Confederate  reunion  at  Dallas,  Texas. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  party  were  veteran  soldiers,  and 
your  correspondent  claimed  like  honors.  (Place  this 
admission  to  my  credit,  for,  believe  me,  it  is  a  ruthless 
sacrifice  of  womanly  vanity  to  dearer  memories.) 

In  congenial  companionship  the  day  passed  quickly. 
Its  close  brought  us  to  Dallas.  And  here  began  at  once 
an  emotional  experience  which  might  well  be  called  "  a 
tempest  of  the  heart," — glimpses  of  glory  once  real. 
"  Forms  and  scenes  of  long  ago"  appeared  in  such  con 
stant  succession  that  it  seemed  like  a  resurrection  of 
the  dead  and  buried  past. 

The  first  object  that  met  our  view  was  a  large  Con 
federate  battle-flag,  suspended  from  a  conspicuous  build 
ing  on  one  of  the  principal  streets,  surmounted,  sur 
rounded  by  "star-spangled  banners,"  large  and  small, 
but  still  there,  to  set  our  hearts  throbbing  wildly,  to  call 
forth  a  rain  of  blinding  tears.  This  was  but  the  begin 
ning.  Borne  swiftly  onward  to  the  hotel,  we  momen 
tarily  started  forward  with  streaming  eyes  and  bated 
breath  to  gaze  upon  the  phantom  legions  ever  passing. 
Squads  of  cavalry  dashed  by,  manly,  weather-beaten 
boys  in  gray,  and  elegant-looking  officers  wearing  the 
well-remembered  slouched  hat  with  cord  and  feathers, 
and  full  Confederate  uniforms.  Infantry  and  artillery 
812 


THE  CONFEDERATE  REUNION  AT  DALLAS.     313 

officers  and  privates  thronged  the  sidewalks,  arm  in  arm, 
walking  in  half  embrace,  or  standing  with  hand  grasping 
hand.  Those  not  in  uniform  wore  the  badges  of  their 
respective  commands,  and  frequently  some  faded  rem 
nant  of  "  the  gray." 

In  the  large  dry -goods  establishment  of  Sauger  & 
Brothers  an  immense  show-window  was  skilfully  and 
beautifully  arranged  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  Confed 
erate  soldiers  (life  size),  so  natural  and  life-like  as  to 
startle  one,  were  grouped  around  a  camp-fire  anxiously 
watching  a  large  kettle  containing  a  tempting-look 
ing  "  mess"  of  green  corn,  potatoes,  other  vegetables, 
and  the  rations  of  pork  and  beef.  Blankets  neatly 
rolled  and  strapped,  canteens,  haversacks,  etc.,  lay  near 
upon  the  ground.  In  the  background,  a  deck  of  cards 
and  two  piles  of  Confederate  money  had  evidently  been 
thrown  down  and  deserted  to  "watch  the  pot."  We 
learned  that  this  most  realistic  arrangement  was  the 
work  of  a  "  Yankee  boy,"  whose  father  had  served  in 
the  Federal  army, — a  loving  tribute  to  the  people  among 
whom  he  had  come  to  make  his  home. 

Arrived  at  the  hotel,  where  a  crowd  of  people  waited 
in  the  parlor  to  be  assigned  rooms,  we  witnessed  many 
a  touching  scene  between  veterans  who  met  now  after 
twenty  years.  An  anxious  face  would  look  in  at  the 
door,  a  manly  form  would  advance  irresolutely  into  the 
room,  furtively  scanning  the  new-comers.  Suddenly, — 
"Jim,  can  this  be  you?"  "Why,  Dave,  old  fel!  great 
God,  is  this  Dave?"  Then  as  hand  met  and  grasped 
hand  these  strong  men  would  often  break  into  sobs 
which  forbade  all  speech,  while  every  heart  of  those 
who  looked  on  thrilled  with  responsive  feeling. 

From  what  I  learned  of  the  intended  evening  festivi 
ties  at  the  camp-ground  (music  and  dancing  under  the 
glare  of  the  electric  light),  I  felt  disinclined  to  be  present. 
o  27 


314  MEMORIES. 

All  day  I  had  walked  hand  in  hand  with  memory,  turn 
ing  again  and  again  to  clasp  her  closely  and  to  feel  the 
throbbing  of  her  sad  heart  upon  my  own.  The  dear 
presence  still  enthralled  me,  and  I  could  imagine  no 
counter-charm  in  the  laughing  face  and  airy  form  of 
Terpsichore. 

On  the  following  morning,  Amy  and  I,  escorted  by  a 
gallant  Missouri  veteran,  set  out  for  the  rendezvous, 
where  we  found  assembled  three  or  four  thousand  peo 
ple,  among  whom  hundreds  wearing  more  or  less  of  the 
gray  were  conspicuous.  The  perfect  and  magnificent 
arrangements  for  the  comfort  and  entertainment  of 
guests  inspired  one  with  genuine  admiration  for  those 
who  had  so  well  accomplished  the  grand  results  every 
where  apparent.  Did  one  thirst  ?  In  a  hundred  cool, 
pleasant  nooks  were  placed  casks  of  ice-water,  with  dip 
pers  and  gourds  of  all  sizes  attached  by  long  chains. 
If  hungry,  at  "  Headquarters"  requisitions  were  fur 
nished  and  duly  honored  by  the  commissary,  who 
seemed  to  have  a  never-failing  supply  of  delicious  bar 
becued  beef  and  mutton,  also  generous  rations  of  fresh 
bread. 

These  were  supplemented  by  elegant  refreshments  of 
all  kinds,  served  under  shaded  tents  by  ladies,  whose 
entire  cordiality  made  them  charming  hostesses. 

Bands  of  music  continually  enlivened  the  scene.  One 
of  these  (Gauche  Brothers,  of  Dallas)  was  of  rare  excel 
lence,  rendering  "  Bonnie  Blue  Flag,"  "  Dixie,"  and  an 
exquisite  nocturne,  "The  Soldier's  Dream"  (composed 
for  this  occasion  by  the  leader  of  this  band),  with  so 
much  expression  and  skill  as  to  elicit  great  applause.  . 
The  speaker's  stand  was  beautifully  ornamented.  Hang 
ing  on  either  side  of  the  rostrum  was  a  Confederate  battle- 
flag.  Above  them,  in  the  centre,  floated  a  new  and  very 
handsome  United  States  banner  in  graceful  undulations. 


THE  CONFEDERATE  REUNION  AT  DALLAS.      315 

From  its  blue  field  not  a  star  was  missing.  All  had 
been  restored,  and  the  bunting  waved  proudly  as  if  in 
stinct  with  knowledge  of  this  fact.  But,  oh,  those 
other  flags!  sacred  emblems  of  a  cause  so  loved,  so 
nobly  defended,  yet,  alas,  lost!  shattered  and  torn  by 
shot  and  shell,  begrimed  with  the  smoke  of  battle, 
deeply  stained  with  precious  blood;  as  the  summer 
breeze  dallied  with  their  ragged  folds,  they  seemed  to 
stir  with  a  feeble,  mournful  motion,  like  the  slow  throb 
bing  of  a  breaking  heart.  Pictures  illustrating  camp- 
life,  battle  scenes,  etc.,  ornamented  the  stand,  which 
was  also  decorated  plentifully  with  red  and  white,  with 
a  sufficient  admixture  of  blue  to  make  one  remember  to 
be  loyal  to  the  present.  The  attempt  to  depict  camp- 
life,  cannon,  camp-fires,  tents,  stacked  guns,  sentries, 
etc.,  was  utterly  upset  by  the  presence  of  hundreds  of 
ladies  and  children,  with  the  inevitable  paraphernalia 
necessary  to  their  comfort.  "  The  front  of  grim-visaged 
war"  was  constantly  being  smoothed  into  beauty  by 
baby  fingers.  Men,  lured  by  siren  voices,  deserted  the 
tented  field,  and  were  happy,  in  entire  forgetfulness  of 
duty  (so  called).  Soldiers  who  did  not  bring  ladies  en 
joyed  hugely  living  in  tents  and  once  more  "  messing" 
together.  Many  eloquent  speakers  addressed  the  crowd. 
Pearls  of  eloquence  were  sown  broadcast,  and  brought 
forth  a  generous  harvest  of  applause. 

The  number  of  officers  present  was  surprising.  Gen 
erals,  colonels,  majors  were  pointed  out  to  me  by  the 
score,  and  at  last  I  began  to  wonder  whether  in  the 
portion  of  the  Confederate  army  here  represented  there 
were  any  "  privates,"  at  least  I  might  have  so  wondered 
had  I  not  known  that,  after  many  of  the  battles  now 
being  recalled  with  honest  pride  and  merited  applause, 
my  own  eyes  had  been  too  dim  with  tears  to  see  the 
glory,  my  ears  had  failed  to  catch  the  sounds  of  triumph, 


316  MEMORIES. 

because  so  filled  with  awful  death-groans  or  the  agoniz 
ing  cries  of  the  wounded.  IJIen  whose  parting  breath 
was  an  ascription  of  praise  to  the  god  of  battles,  whose 
last  earthly  joy  was  the  knowledge  of  victory,  and 
others  who,  shattered  and  torn  and  in  throes  of  agony, 
yet  repressed  their  moans  that  they  might  listen  for 
the  music  of  the  fount  which  "springs  eternal,"  whose 
bright  waters  (to  them)  mirrored  the  cause  they  loved 
so  well. 

All  honor  to  those  who  planned  the  glorious  cam 
paigns  of  the  late  war — who  dauntlcssly  led  heroic  legions. 
Their  record  is  without  a  parallel  in  the  history  of 
nations.  Equal  honor  to  the  rank  and  file — whose 
splendid  valor  and  self-sacrifice  made  success  possible 
even  when  further  efforts  seemed  but  a  "  forlorn  hope." 

I  believe  I  have  omitted  no  important  detail  of  the 
reunion.  Each  day  was  just  like  the  preceding  one. 
Meetings  and  partings  "  tried  men's  souls,"  and  women's 
hearts  were  stirred  to  their  depths. 

At  last  the  end  came ;  afterwards  to  many  painful  re 
action.  Still  it  was  passing  sweet  to  meet  old  friends 
and  comrades,  and  to  find  that  memory  had  not  proven 
faithless  to  her  trust.  For  many  a  day  in  the  future  we 
shall  stand  in  the  light  of  the  surpassing  glory  which 
streamed  through  as  the  curtain,  which  has  so  long  ob 
scured  the  past,  was  lifted  again  and  again  by  tender, 
reverent  hands,  under  the  oaks  at  Dallas. 

An  Incident  of  the  Dallas  Reunion.* 

(The  scene  here  described  is  to  me  a  "  memory"  passing 
sweet,  and  one  which  I  desire  to  perpetuate.  This  feel 
ing  is  far  removed  from  vanity.  Had  the  "  Lost  Cause" 

*  Written  at  the  time  for  the  Shreveport  paper  by  Colonel  Hen 
derson,  a  true  and  gallant  soldier,  who  has  since  died. 


THE  CONFEDERATE  REUNION  AT  DALLAS.     317 

been  triumphant,  my  lips  would  have  been  sealed  as  to 
my  own  service.  As  it  is,  I  glory  in  having  served  it, 
and  cherish  fondly  even  the  slightest  token  that  "  my 
boys"  do  not  forget  me.) 

"  On  the  last  day  of  the  Southern  Soldiers'  Eeunion  at 
Dallas,  and  when  sentiments  had  been  read  in  honor  of 
this  and  that  officer  of  distinction  in  the  service  of  the 
Lost  Cause,  a  lady  occupying  a  somewhat  retired  posi 
tion  on  the  platform  handed  to  General  Gano  a  slip  of 
paper  on  which  was  traced  the  following  noble  sentiment 
as  read  by  General  Gano  in  a  clear,  distinct  voice,  and 
in  tones  that  expressed  his  entire  concurrence. 

"  The  sentiment  and  the  name  subscribed  are  sufficient 
of  themselves.  We  give  it  as  follows  : 

"'THE  PRIVATE  SOLDIER  OP  THE  CONFEDERATE  STATES 

ARMY. 

"  '  He  bore  in  his  bosom  a  heart  of  oak ;  he  withstood 
the  brunt  of  battle  and  sustained  the  heat  and  burthen  of 
the  day.  His  blood  nourished  the  laurels  which  other 
wise  had  never  bloomed  to  grace  the  brow  of  Lee  and 
Jackson.  For  myself,  no  blessing  has  ever  crowned  my 
life  more  highly  prized  than  the  God-given  privilege 
I  enjoyed  during  four  years  of  the  war,  of  ministering 
to  the  boys  who  wore  the  ragged,  unornaraented  gray. 
"  *  Your  devoted  friend  and  comrade, 

"  <  MRS.  FANNY  A.  BEERS, 
" '  Late  of  the  Confederate  Army/ 

"  To  this  sentiment  came  the  response  of  three  cheers 
and  a  regular  rebel  yell,  repeated  and  repeated  for  the 
space  of  twenty  minutes. 

"  But  the  most  touching  feature  followed.  A  number 
of  old  Confederate  soldiers,  who  had  in  wounds  and 

27* 


318  MEMORIES. 

sickness  received  gentle  and  healing  ministrations  from 
the  hands  of  Mrs.  Beers,  and  learned  just  then  that  she 
was  present,  in  defiance  of  all  order,  rushed  to  the  stand 
and  gathered  about  her.  Each  and  every  one  bore  the 
mark  of  some  wound  received  in  the  war,  and  wore 
about  their  person  some  fragment,  of  Confederate  uni 
form — a  hat,  a  coat,  or  other  article — as  souvenirs  of  the 
days  of  trials  and  glory. 

"  Like  old  children  they  gathered  around  her,  grasping 
her  hand  and  blessing  her  and  testifying  to  all  the  world 
what  a  blessing  she  had  been  to  them. 

"  It  was,  indeed  and  truly,  the  most  touching  and  strik 
ing  incident  of  the  late  reunion  of  Confederate  veterans 
at  Dallas." 


CHAPTEK    III. 

GAMP  NICHOLS. 

The  Louisiana  Soldiers'  Home. 

1  MUST  begin  with  a  digression,  for,  as  thought  con 
centrates  itself  upon  this  pleasant  subject,  one  is  irre 
sistibly  impelled  to  remember  the  delightful  ride  thither 
ward,  and  to  wonder  if  any  other  city  in  the  United 
States  can  boast  of  street-car  routes  so  beautiful.  The 
visitor  to  "  Camp  Nichols,"  taking  on  Canal  Street  a 
car  of  the  Esplanade  and  Bayou  Bridge  line,  is  borne 
smootbly  along  for  miles  under  cool,  green  arches  of 
oak-trees,  a  broad  street  on  either  side,  .bordered  by 
elegant  residences  and  lovely,  fragrant  gardens. 

Looking  back,  where  the  green  arcade  narrows  away 
in  the  distance,  or  forward,  to  observe  how  the  rough 
track  is  made  beautiful  by  the  shadows  of  dancing 
leaves  and  boughs, — glancing  at  the  rapidly-succeeding 
pictures  of  beauty  and  comfort  on  either  side,  inhaling 
the  mingled  perfume  of  flowers, — one  is  placed  under 
a  spell  of  enchantment  which  lasts  until,  at  "Bayou 
Bridge,"  the  end  of  the  route  is  reached.  Leaving  the 
car,  a  very  short  walk  along  the  banks  of  the  Bayou 
brings  the  visitor  to  the  "  camp."  Upon  entering  the 
gate  the  first  thought  is,  "  How  pleasant,  how  peaceful, 
how  homelike."  The  comfortable-looking  house  is  beau 
tifully  shaded  by  large  live-oaks.  Under  these  green 
grass  is  diversified  by  neatly-kept  walks.  Midway  be 
tween  the  outer  gate  and  the  house  a  small  stream  is 
spanned  by  a  rustic  bridge.  As  I  stood  upon  this 

319 


320  MEMORIES. 

bridge  and  saw,  upon  the  pleasant  galleries  in  front  of 
their  rooms,  the  maimed  and  scarred  veterans  sitting 
in  groups  or  apart,  tranquilly  smoking  and  chatting  or 
reading,  the  dying  words  of  our  "Stonewall"  Jackson 
came  into  my  mind, — "  Let  us  cross  the  river  and  rest 
in  the  shade  of  the  trees."  To  him  was  given  eternal 
rest.  The  weary  spirit  even  then  stood  by  the  river  of 
death  and  viewed  beyond  the  trees  of  paradise.  Less 
happy  these  who  remain  to  witness  the  downfall  of 
hope.  Ah,  what  can  be  more  glorious,  yet  more  deeply 
sorrowful,  than  the  story  of  their  past.  The  strength 
and  beauty  of  their  youth  and  early  manhood  was 
freely  given  to  the  cause  they  deemed  sacred.  It  was, 
alas !  lost ;  and,  the  tempest  of  war  subsiding,  left  upon 
a  desolate  shore  these  wrecks. 

Returning  after  the  war  to  find  only  ruined  homes 
and  shattered  fortunes,  those  who  had  retained  health 
and  strength  found  them  taxed  to  the  utmost.  Neces 
sity  held  them  in  bonds  of  iron,  and  the  demands  of 
helpless  families  absorbed  them.  All  the  same,  manly 
hearts  have  been  often  and  painfully  stirred  by  the 
silent  appeals  of  maimed  and  suffering  comrades,  and 
the  faithful  few  have  never  ceased  to  hope  and  strive 
for  the  result  now  attained  in  the  "  Soldiers'  Home." 

It  is  pleasant  to  feel  that  the  first  rays  of  the  newly- 
arisen  sun  of  prosperity  have  dispelled  the  darkness 
wherein  these  poor  fellows  have  wandered  so  long, 
revealing  to  them  the  kindly  faces  of  brothers,  who, 
having  gone  in  search  of  them,  will  lead  them  to  home 
and  rest. 

As  I  said  before,  the  "  Home"  viewed  from  the  bridge, 
a  few  hundred  yards  in  front,  suggests  ideas  of  comfort 
which  are  fully  realized  upon  a  closer  investigation. 
The  rooms  are  delightfully  situated  (opening  upon  a 
shaded  gallery),  perfectly  ventilated,  and  very  cool,  fur- 


CAMP  NICHOLS.  321 

nished  with  iron  bedsteads,  comfortable  and  cleanly 
bedding,  wardrobes  or  bureaus,  and  washstands.  The 
library  and  reception-room  is  a  charming  nook,  em 
bellished  with  many  gifts  from  loving  hands. 

Immediately  opposite  the  entrance  is  placed  an  ex 
cellent  portrait  of  General  Francis  T.  Nichols,  a  hero 
whom  all  (Louisianians  especially)  delight  to  honor. 
From  the  bloody  battle-fields  of  Northern  Virginia  he 
brought  back  a  mangled  and  shattered  body,  but  enough 
to  hold  and  enshrine  a  powerful,  active  brain,  and  a 
heart  as  brave  and  generous  as  ever  beat  in  human 
bosom. 

He  is  idolized  by  his  comrades  and  beloved  by  us  all. 
By  a  unanimous  vote  of  the  board  of  directors  the^ 
home  has  been  called  "Camp  Nichols,"  and  from  a 
gracefully-proportioned  flag-staff,  placed  directly  in  front 
of  the  reception-room  (the  gift  of  the  Army  of  Tennes 
see),  floats  a  banner  whereon  this  honored  name  was 
embroidered  by  the  daughters  of  Generals  Lee  and 
Jackson  during  their  recent  visit  to  New  Orleans. 

The  dining-room  is  very  large,  well  lighted,  and  fairly 
shines  with  cleanliness.  In  short,  every  appointment  is 
excellent,  and  every  effort  of  managers  and  officers  is 
directed  toward  making  the  disabled  veterans  feel  that 
they  are  honored  inmates  of  a  home  which  they  have 
earned  and  deserved,  not  recipients  of  charity.  Camp 
Nichols  may  well  be  called  a  trysting-place  of  heroes. 
Here  old  comrades  meet  as  comrades  and  friends.  In 
the  warm  grasp  of  hands  there  is  no  suspicion  of  patron 
age.  Right  down  in  these  brave,  long-suffering  hearts 
shine  glances  full  of  the  unforgotten  "  light  of  other 
days,"  causing  eyes  dim  and  clouded  by  care  and  sor 
row  to  beam  with  a  responsive  brightness.  Ah,  who 
shall  undertake  to  estimate  the  value  and  blessedness 
of  this  work ! 


322  MEMORIES. 

The  Legislature  of  Louisiana  organized  this  enter 
prise  in  1881,  making  a  yearly  appropriation  for  its  sup 
port.  It  is  designed  for  all  soldiers  of  Louisiana  who 
have  been  disabled  by  wounds  received  in  her  service  or 
have  become  incapacitated  by  age  or  disability ;  is  con 
trolled  by  a  board  of  directors,  also  created  by  the  State, 
consisting  of  the  president,  three  vice-presidents,  and 
recording  secretary  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia, 
and  the  president,  three  vice-presidents,  and  recording 
secretary  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee. 

The  harmonious  action  of  this  board  is  nobly  sus 
tained  by  the  members  composing  both  organizations. 

The  president  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  Judge 
"Walter  Eogers,  is  an  indefatigable  worker,  as  he  was 
once  a  brave  and  faithful  soldier.  He  may  with  perfect 
truth  be  written  "  as  one  who  loves  his  fellow-men" 
(especially  his  fellow-soldiers).  I  believe  he  will,  as 
long  as  he  lives,  stand  a  faithful  sentinel  upon  the  sands 
of  time,  watching  lest  the  ever-encroaching  tide  of 
years  may  obliterate  sacred  foot-prints. 

All  arrangements  having  been  nearly  completed,  the 
Home  was  opened  January  1,  1884.  Eight  soldiers  were 
at  once  admitted,  and  since  the  number  has  been  in 
creased  to  fifty.  Under  the  rules  of  the  institution  no 
compulsory  labor  is  allowed  except  that  necessary  to 
properly  police  the  quarters.  Yet  all  feel  so  "deep  an 
interest  in  their  Home  that  they  yield  willing  assistance 
whenever  asked.  They  choose  such  occupations  as 
they  are  physically  able  to  perform,  and  take  delight  in 
keeping  things  in  order. 

The  Home  has  many  friends  outside  of  the  Confed 
erate  organizations,  none  more  zealous  and  truly  kind 
than  the  officers  and  members  of  the  Grand  Army  of 
the  Kepublic,  "  Mewer  Post."  These  are  frequent  and 
welcome  visitors  to  Camp  Nichols,  and  have  shown  both 


CAMP  NICHOLS.  323 

generosity  and  thoughtful  ness  in  their  contributions  to 
the  comfort  of  its  inmates.  The  superintendent,  Captain 
William  Bullitt,  was  selected  on  account  of  his  soldierly 
qualities  and  excellent  administrative  abilities,  and  by  a 
unanimous  vote  of  the  board  elected  to  fill  the  position. 

His  record  is  untarnished  and  excellent.  At  the  in 
ception  of  the  war,  having  assisted  in  raising  the  First 
Company  Louisiana  Guards,  he  went  out  as  first  lieuten 
ant  of  the  same,  won  by  promotion  the  rank  of  captain 
and  afterwards  of  major,  which  he  held  at  the  close  of 
the  war.  Used,  therefore,  to  command,  he  also  brings  to 
his  work  a  thorough  love  for  it,  and  an  amount  of  intelli 
gence  in  interpreting,  and  skill  in  carrying  out  arrange 
ments  and  improvements  proposed  by  the  board  of* 
directors,  which  insures  success  and  the  satisfaction  of 
all  concerned. 

44  God  bless  our  Home,"  and  let  the  light  of  His  coun 
tenance  shine  upon  it  and  bless  it. 

And  may  God  strengthen  the  kindly  hands  which 
have  led  these  weary  ones  away  from  thorny  pathways 
11  through  green  pastures  and  beside  still  waters."  May 
they  never  falter  nor  fail  until  the  all-merciful  Father 
shall  himself  provide  the  "  rod  and  staff"  which  shall 
guide  all  through  the  dark  valley  to  rest  eternal. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  MARCH  OF  TIME. 

Thoughts  suggested  while  witnessing  the  ceremonies  attending 
the  unveiling  of  a  statue  of  General  Albert  Sydney  Johnston, 
erected  upon  their  tomb  by  the  Louisiana  Division,  Army  of 
Tennessee,  in  New  Orleans,  Louisiana,  April  6,  1887.* 

LITTLE  more  than  three  years  ago  there  came  a  day 
long  to  be  remembered  by  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
resident  in  New  Orleans,  and  by  all  strangers  then  so 
journing  within  her  gates.  A  day  when  the  souls  of 
thousands  held  but  a  single  thought,  when  all  hearts 
beat  as  one,  when  one  impulse,  strong,  thrilling,  irresis 
tible  led  willing  feet  to  where,  upon  a  pedestal,  raised 
stone  by  stone  by  love  and  self-sacrifice,  stood  the 
shrouded  figure  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee.  Above  hung 
heavy  clouds,  alas!  too  suggestive  of  the  hopes  that 
perished  forever  at  Appomattox,  but  ever  and  anon  the 
struggling  sun  broke  through,  lingering  awhile  as  if  to 
recall  the  matchless  glory  which,  even  in  the  hour  of 
disaster  and  defeat,  gilded  and  made  immortal  the  un 
tarnished  swords,  the  stacked  arms,  then  and  there  sur 
rendered. 

To  me  the  terrific  storm  which  soon  broke,  upsetting 
all  arrangements,  abolishing  all  ceremonies,  hushing  all 
oratory,  seemed  to  solemnize  and  mark  in  a  most  fitting 
manner  this  great  occasion.  For  no  tongue  of  man  or 
arigel  could  have  evoked  a  feeling  so  strong,  a  sentiment 

*  The  article  was  first  published  in  "  The  Illustrated  South." 


THE  MARCH  OF  TIME.  325 

BO  lasting,  as  that  written,  as  it  were,  by  the  finger  of 
Heaven  that  day  upon  the  hearts  of  that  awe-stricken 
multitude.  Years  hence,  those  who  were  boys  then  will 
remember  the  lesson  there  learned.  They  will  tell  you 
of  the  soldierly  figures  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
monument,  exposed  to  the  pitiless  storm,  immovable, 
unshrinking  ON  DUTY,  and  these  were  men  who,  follow 
ing  where  duty  led,  had  won  an  imperishable  record 
under  the  immortal  Lee. 

They  will  describe  how,  in  the  storm-swept  streets 
outside  the  enclosure,  legions  of  soldiers,  the  Blue  as 
well  as  the  Gray,  calmly  faced  the  howling  tempest, 
standing  "  at  rest,"  awaiting  the  moment  when  the  form 
of  the  great  commander  should  be  revealed  to  their 
reverent  gaze.  Among  these,  the  veterans  of  the  Army 
of  Tennessee  bore  a  conspicuous  part.  In  their  true, 
brave  hearts,  second  to  none  in  allegiance  to  their  com- 
mander-in-chief,  there  yet  lay  enshrined  another  image, 
there  burned  another  purpose  equally  high  and  holy. 
Hope  pointed  down  the  long  vista  of  the  future  to  where 
lay — a  tomb !  only  a  tomb  1  nay,  more — a  "  bivouac  of 
the  dead,"  where,  life's  battle  fought,  the  toilsome  march 
ended,  weary  comrades  might  gather  to  their  rest.  And 
so  far  distant,  yet  always  in  sight,  gleamed  their  Mecca ; 
steadily  towards  it  marched  the  pilgrims  of  memory, 
unfaltering,  undismayed,  led  by  a  few  brave,  faithful 
spirits,  through  deserts  of  discouragement,  when  oases 
were  few  and  far  between,  patiently  bridging  chasms 
which  seemed  impassable,  until  to-day  they  stand  at 
the  goal  so  hardly  won.  There  lie  the  veterans  who 
one  by  one  have  stolen  to  the  bivouac.  "After  life's 
fitful  fever  they  sleep  well."  Above,  faithful  comrades 
keep  watch  and  ward.  Here  is  a  solemn  but  glorious 
trysting-place. 

On  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  April,  twenty-five  years 
28 


326  MEMORIES. 

ago,  a  sky  as  bright  and  beautiful  as  that  which  to-day 
bends  above  us,  became  obscured  and  darkened  by  the 
smoke  of  battle.  Of  the  Confederate  forces  then  and 
there  engaged  it  has  been  said,  "  Their  splendid  valor 
has  been  rarely  equalled,  never  surpassed,  on  any  field 
of  any  war."  Alas!  why  must  it  be  that  grief  and 
glory  always  go  hand  in  hand  ?  Up  through  the  heavy 
clouds  which  hid  the  face  of  nature  that  terrible  day 
sped  hundreds  of  gallant  souls,  straight  to  the  light 
wherein  was  made  clear  to  them  the  awful  Providence 
which  even  now  disquiets  our  hearts  and  clouds  our 
earthly  vision.  Among  them,  one  whose- sudden  taking 
off  filled  every  breast  with  gloom,  and  wrested  from  the 
Confederacy  the  fruits  of  a  splendid  victory. 

So  many  and  so  grand  are  the  eulogies  which  have 
been  pronounced  upon  Albert  Sydney  Johnston  that 
nothing  remains  for  me  to  add.  Who  does  not  remem 
ber  the  sorrow  of  a  nation  at  his  death  ?  Who  can  forget 
the  lava  tide  of  indignation  which  spread  over  our  land 
when  the  "conquered"  were  forbidden  to  mourn  their 
fallen  hero,  when  a  stricken  people  were  compelled  to 
"  lay  their  hands  upon  their  mouths,  their  mouths  in 
the  dust,"  when  even  the  mournful  voices  of  the  bells 
were  silenced  ? 

Viewed  in  the  glorious  light  of  to-day,  how  like  a 
prophecy  fulfilled  appear  the  beautiful  lines  of  Father 
Ryan,— 

"  There's  a  grandeur  in  graves,  there's  a  glory  in  gloom, 
For  out  of  the  gloom  future  brightness  is  born, 
As  after  the  night  looms  the  sunrise  of  morn, 
And  the  graves  of  the  dead,  with  grass  overgrown. 
May  yet  form  the  footstool  of  Liberty's  throne." 

Years  of  bitter  strife  have  left  sad  traces  all  over  this 
beautiful  Southland.  In  lovely  valleys,  upon  every  hill- 


THE  MARCH  OF  TIME.  327 

side,  in  the  majestic  forests,  lie,  side  by  side,  the  Gray 
and  the  Blue.  The  sun  clothes  every  mound  with  equal 
glory,  the  sky  weeps  over  all  alike.  Standing  beside 
these  graves,  angry  passions  die  in  the  hearts  of  brave 
men;  "one.  touch  of  nature"  moistens  manly  eyes, 
softens  obdurate  hearts.  Involuntarily  hands  meet  in 
a  firmer  clasp,  which  expresses  respect  as  well  as  sym 
pathy. 

The  soldiers  on  both  sides  have  learned  to  appreciate 
and  understand  each  other,  so,  in  spite  of  those  who 
would  fain  prolong  the  strife,  the  long-oppressed  people 
of  the  South  are  free  to  mourn  their  dead,  and 

"  The  graves  of  the  dead,  with  grass  overgrown," 

indeed 

11  Form  a  footstool  for  Liberty's  throne." 

To-day  the  veterans  who  met  and  fiercely  battled  at 
Shiloh  unite  in  doing  honor  to  the  memory  of  General 
Johnston  and  of  the  men  who,  with  him,  won  immor 
tality  upon  that  bloody  field. 

To-day  imperishable  laurels  bloom  afresh  upon  the 
upturned  brows  of  the  men  who  hail  with  loud  acclaim 
the  image  of  their  chieftain  placed  here  to  guard  forever 

u  War's  richest  spoil, — the  ashes  of  the  dead." 

It  is  fitting  that,  on  this  day  of  memory,  rich  strains 
of  martial  music  should  awaken  long-silent  echoes  in 
this  city  of  the  dead, — fitting  that  nature  should  be 
despoiled  of  her  floral  treasures  to  deck  this  sacred 
place  which,  indeed,  is  "  not  so  much  the  tomb  of  virtue 
as  its  shrine." 

The  flowers  that  yield  their  beauty  and  fragrance  to 
grace  this  scene  will  fade  and  die.  Yon  radiant  sun 


328  MEMORIES. 

will  set,  but  not  before  it  has  burned  an  indelible  record 
upon  the  young  hearts  of  thousands  to  whom,  ere  long, 
we  must  trust  this  precious  spot. 

Of  the  remnant  of  the  once  magnificent  Army  of  Ten 
nessee  gathered  here  it  will  soon  be  said, — 

"  On  Fame's  eternal  camping-ground 
Their  silent  tents  are  spread." 

But  the  figure  of  their  chieftain  will  be  left  to  tell  the 
story  of  a  patriotic  purpose  long  cherished  in  faithful 
hearts,  at  last  accomplished  by  patient  hands. 

"  Nor  wreck,  nor  change,  nor  winter's  blight, 

Nor  Time's  remorseless  doom, 
Can  dim  our  ray  of  holy  light 
That  gilds  this  glorious  tomb." 


CHAPTEE    V. 

A  WOMAN'S   RECORD.* 
(From  the  Southern  Bivouac.) 

THIS  record  will  be  found  to  substantiate  in  every 
particular  my  own  history  of  the  period  referred  to. 

Being  inspired  by  an  ardent  zeal  or  a  high  sense  of 
duty,  not  a  few  noble  women  during  the  war  arose  con 
spicuous  to  view.  Their  gentle  deeds,  though  done  in 
humble  spheres,  yet  shone  like  "  a  bright  light  in  a  low 
world." 

Fair  exemplars  they  were  of  patriotic  virtue,  whose 
acts  of  devotion  helped  much  to  enshrine  in  our  mem 
ories  a  melancholy  past ;  and  they  should  not  bo  forgot 
ten.  In  the  March  number  of  the  Bivouac  was  given  a 
short  sketch  of  a  lady  who,  during  the  war,  tenderly 
cared  for  the  sick  and  suffering  Confederates  in  a  North 
ern  prison.  It  is  now  proposed  to  give  the  record  of  one 
who,  animated  with  a  romantic  love  for  the  cause  of  the 
South,  left  a  luxurious  home  and  spent  nearly  four  years 
in  nursing  the  sick  and  wounded  in  Confederate  hospitals. 

Mrs.  Fannie  A.  Beers  was  a  native  of  the  North,  and 
the  child  of  fond  parents,  who  gave  her  every  educational 
advantage,  and  the  means  of  acquiring  all  the  accom 
plishments  usual  in  refined  circles. 

When  very  young  she  was  married  to  her  present 
husband,  and  before  the  war  came  South  to  reside  at 
New  Orleans.  By  nature  ardent  and  susceptible,  she 

*  Written  in  1883  by  Major  McDonald,  of  Louisville,  Kentucky, 
then  editor  Southern  Bivouac. 

28*  329 


330  MEMORIES. 

readily  adapted  herself  to  the  surroundings  of  her  new 
life,  and  soon  grew  to  love  the  people  and  the  land  of 
her  adoption.  A  few  years  of  happiness  passed  and 
then  came  the  sectional  storm.  Full  well  she  knew  that 
it  threatened  to  sunder  cherished  ties,  but  it  did  not 
move  her  from  the  side  of  her  choice. 

When  the  struggle  came  at  last,  and  her  home  was 
broken  up  in  New  Orleans  by  the  absence  of  her  husband 
in  the  field,  she  returned  to  the  parental  roof,  to  beguile 
the  time  in  the  companionship  of  her  mother.  But  the 
separation,  with  the  anxiety  it  brought,  became  intoler 
able  ;  besides,  from  the  positiveness  of  her  opinions  and 
the  warmth  of  her  zeal,  she  soon  became  ill  at  ease  in  the 
land  of  her  birth.  So,  with  her  mother's  approval,  she 
resolved  to  face  all  perils,  and  to  return  and  share  the 
fortunes  of  the  Confederacy.  Taking  her  little  boy  she 
set  out  for  "  Dixie,"  and,  after  many  trials,  arrived  at 
Richmond,  Virginia,  just  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Run. 
Here  she  was  kindly  cared  for  by  some  old  acquaintances, 
among  whom  was  Commodore  Maury,  a  friend  of  her 
family,  and  who  had  dedicated  his  "  Geography  of  the 
Sea"  to  her  uncle,  George  Manning,  of  New  York. 
Through  his  introduction  she  made  many  dear  friends 
among  the  ladies  of  Richmond,  some  of  whom  pressed 
her  to  come  and  dwell  with  them;  but  she  neither 
needed  nor  was  seeking  roof  and  shelter.  If  she  so 
wished,  she  might  have  found  them  with  her  husband's 
relatives  in  Alabama.  What  she  felt  the  want  of  was 
occupation, — work  in  behalf  of  the  cause  to  which,  in 
spite  of  selfish  reasons,  she  felt  impelled  to  devote  herself. 

In  order  that  she  might  have  this  work,  and  at  the 
same  time  be  where  assistance  could  be  rendered  her 
husband  and  friends  at  the  front,  she  asked  to  be  ap 
pointed  a  hospital  matron. 

Commodore  Maury  for  some  time  protested  against 


A    WOMAN'S  RECORD,  331 

such  a  step,  saying  that  she  was  too  young,  and  had 
been  too  tenderly  raised ;  but  she  persisted,  so  he  finally 
yielded,  as  appears  from  the  following  letter: 

11  RICHMOND,  August  10,  1861. 

"My  DEAR  FANNY, — You  bear  the  heart  of  a  true  and 
tender  woman,  in  the  breast  of  a  noble  patriot.     I  will 
no  longer  oppose  your  wishes,  and  mean  to  help  you  all 
1  can.     Command  me  at  any  and  all  times. 
"Yours  truly, 

"  MATTHEW  F.  MAURY." 

At  first  she  assisted  in  a  private  hospital  maintained 
by  some  Eichinond  ladies,  who,  by  turns,  sent  in  all  the^ 
food  required.  Permission  was  applied  for  to  enter  the 
Louisiana  hospital,  but  it  was  refused. 

In  a  few  weeks  she  was  appointed  matron-in-charge 
of  the  Second  Alabama  Hospital,  with  liberty  to  receive 
a  limited  number  of  her  friends,  who  might  be  taken 
care  of  there. 

Soon  after  she  entered  upon  her  regular  duties  the  sick 
and  wounded  began  to  pour  in,  and  from  this  time  for- 
ward  she  was  constantly  employed  till  within  a  few 
weeks  of  the  battle  of  Shiloh.  With  the  departure  of 
her  husband's  command  to  Tennessee,  she  was  disposed 
for  a  like  change  of  field-duty.  She  now  left  Richmond, 
and  for  a  few  weeks  only  was  occupied  with  a  visit  to 
her  husband's  relatives.  Then  she  resumed  her  hospital 
work  at  Gainesville,  Alabama. 

Her  subsequent  career  is  best  related  in  the  following 
letters  from  surgeons  of  high  rank,  and  whose  official 
positions  gave  them  abundant  opportunities  of  estima 
ting  the  work  she  performed  and  the  strength  of  the 
spirit  which  animated  her;  The  letters  were  called 
from  their  authors  in  the  spring  of  1883,  nearly  twenty 


332  MEMORIES. 

years  after  the  close  of  the  war,  upon  the  occasion  of  a 
musical  and  literary  entertainment  being  tendered  Mrs. 
Beers  by  her  soldier  friends  in  New  Orleans.  So  pro 
found  was  the  gratitude  for  her  former  services  to  sick 
and  wounded  Confederates,  that  all  the  military  organi 
zations  exerted  themselves  to  make  it  a  success,  and  at 
the  meeting  of  the  members  of  the  "  Army  of  Tennes 
see,"  complimentary  resolutions  were  passed,  and  the 
letters  read. 

"  NEW  ORLEANS,  March  8,  1883. 
"  JUDGE  EOGERS  : 

"  DEAR  SIR, — Understanding  that  the  members  of  the 
'Army  of  Tennessee'  have  tendered  Mrs.  F.  A.  Beers 
an  entertainment,  I  feel  anxious  to  aid  in  securing  its 
success. 

"  I  am  well  qualified  to  testify  to  the  valuable  and  dis 
interested  services  which  this  lady  rendered  in  the  Con 
federate  hospital  during  the  late  war.  In  truth,  aside 
from  officers  and  soldiers  who  may  be  now  living  and  still 
holding  in  remembrance  the  kind  and  skilful  nursing 
which  she  gave  them  personally  while  wounded  or  sick, 
I  know  of  only  four  persons  whose  positions  made  them 
fully  cognizant  of  the  heroism,  devotion,  and  self-sacri 
fice  which  she  brought  to  the  discharge  of  her  duties. 
These  are,  first,  Dr.  T.  H.  McAllister,  now  of  Marion, 
Alabama,  in  whose  admirably-conducted  hospital  she 
was  the  only  matron  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
war;  second,  Dr.  C.  B.  Gamble,  now  of  Baltimore; 
third,  Dr.  S.  H.  Stout,  now  of  Eoswell,  Georgia,  medical 
director  of  hospitals  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee ;  fourth, 
the  writer. 

"  I  know  that  I  can  venture  to  speak  in  behalf  of 
these  gentlemen  and  for  myself  in  declaring  that  the 
skill  and  efficiency  with  which  she  nursed  and  fed  our 
sick  and  wounded  soldiers,  and  the  coolness  and  bravery 


A    WOMAN'S   RECORD.  333 

with  which  she  faced  danger  in  discharge  of  these  du 
ties  do  merit  suitable  recognition  from  the  survivors  of 
those  rapidly-diminishing  numbers  who  fought  under 
the  Confederate  flag. 

"  Yery  respectfully, 

"S.  M.  BEMISS,  M.D., 
"  Late  Assistant  Medical  Director  and  Medical  Director 

of  Hospitals,  Army  of  Tennessee." 

"MARION,  ALABAMA,  March  11,  1883. 

"  DR.  S.  BEMISS,  New  Orleans, — Having  heard  an  en 
tertainment  was  to  be  given  in  your  city  on  March  29 
for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Fannie  A.  Beers,  I  feel  it  to  be 
my  duty,  as  well  as  pleasure,  to  add  my  testimony  to 
her  worth  and  to  the  part  she  played  in  the  late  war. 

"  During  the  three  years  she  was  with  me  as  a  Con 
federate  hospital  matron,  she  conducted  herself  as  a 
high-toned  lady  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  term,  and 
to  every  word  I  may  say  of  her  there  are  hundreds, 
yea,  thousands,  of  Confederate  soldiers  scattered  all 
over  the  South  who  would  cheerfully  testify  to  some 
facts  if  opportunity  were  offered  them. 

"After  the  battles  of  Shiloh  and  Farmington,  and 
then  the  evacuation  of  Corinth,  I  was  ordered  to  estab 
lish  hospitals  (in  June  or  July,  1862)  for  the  sick  and 
wounded  of  General  Bragg's  army,  at  Gainesville,  Ala 
bama.  With  scarcely  any  hospital  supplies  I  began 
preparations  for  the  same,  and  in  answer  to  a  card  pub 
lished  in  the  Selma  (Alabama)  papers,  asking  for  sup 
plies  and  a  suitable  lady  to  act  as  matron,  she  promptly 
responded.  At  first  sight  her  youthful,  delicate,  refined, 
and  lady-like  appearance,  showing  she  had  never  been 
accustomed  to  any  hardships  of  life,  caused  me  to  doubt 
her  capacity  to  fill  the  position  of  matron. 

"  She  said  she  desired  to  do  something  while  her  hus- 


334  MEMORIES. 

band  was  at  the  front  defending  our  Southern  homes. 
I  soon  found  what  she  lacked  in  age  and  experience 
was  made  up  in  patriotism,  devotion  to  the  Southern 
cause,  constant  vigilance,  and  tenderness  in  nursing  the 
Confederate  sick  and  wounded.  I  soon  learned  to  ap 
preciate  her  services  and  to  regard  her  as  indispen 
sable. 

"  She  remained  with  me  as  hospital  matron  while 
I  was  stationed  at  Gainesville,  Alabama,  Ringgold, 
Georgia,  Newnan,  Georgia,  and  Fort  Yalley,  Georgia, 
embracing  a  period  of  nearly  three  years.  She  was  all 
the  time  chief  matron,  sometimes  supervising  more  than 
one  thousand  beds  filled  with  sick  and  wounded,  and 
never  did  any  woman  her  whole  duty  better.  Through 
heat  and  cold,  night  and  day,  she  was  incessant  in  her 
attentions  and  watchfulness  over  the  Confederate  sick 
and  wounded,  many  times  so  worn  down  by  fatigue 
that  she  was  scarcely  able  to  walk,  but  never  faltering 
in  the  discharge  of  her  duties. 

"At  one  time,  while  at  Newnan,  Georgia,  the  Federal 
forces  under  General  McCook  were  advancing  on  the 
town,  and  it  became  necessary  for  every  available  man 
— post  officers,  surgeons,  convalescents,  and  nurses. — to 
leave  the  town  and  wards  in  order  to  repel  the  invading 
enemy.  I  was  much  affected  while  hurrying  from  ward 
to  ward  giving  general  orders  about  the  care  of  the  sick 
during  my  absence  in  the  fight,  to  see  and  hear  the 
maimed  begging  Mrs.  Beers  to  remain  with  them,  and 
they  could  well  testify  to  how  well  she  acted  her  part 
in  remaining  with  them  and  caring  for  their  many 
wants,  while  the  able-bodied  men  of  all  grades  went  to 
battle  for  all  they  held  dear. 

"  At  the  same  time,  all  the  citizens  and  officers'  wives 
sought  refuge  in  some  place  of  safety.  After  the  battle, 
which  resulted  in  victory  to  the  Confederates,  and  the 


A    WOMAN'S  RECORD,  335 

wounded  of  both  armies  were  brought  to  our  wards,  and 
the  Federal  prisoners  (about  one  thousand)  to  the  town, 
her  attention  and  kindness  was,  if  possible,  doubly  in 
creased,  extending  help  and  care  as  well  to  the  boys  in 
blue  as  to  those  in  gray.  .In  her  missions  of  mercy  she 
made  no  distinction.  There  she  was  daily  seen  with  her 
servant  going  into  the  prison  of  the  Federal  soldiers 
with  bandages  and  baskets  of  provisions  to  minister  to 
the  wants  of  such  as  were  slightly  wounded  or  needed 
some  attention.  Many  a  Federal  officer  and  soldier 
would  doubtless  bear  willing  testimony  to  these  acts  of 
unselfish  kindness. 

"  While  Atlanta  was  invested  and  being  shelled  she, 
contrary  to  my  advice  and  urgent  remonstrance,  took 
boxes  of  provisions  to  her  husband  and  comrades  in  the 
trenches  when  the  shot  and  shell  fell  almost  like  hail. 
While  at  Fort  Valley  her  courage  and  patriotism  were 
put  to  the  severest  test  in  an  epidemic  of  smallpox. 

"  When  all  who  could  left,  she  remained  and  nursed 
the  Confederate  soldiers  with  this  loathsome  disease.  I 
desire  to  say  she  was  a  voluntary  nurse,  and  did  all  her 
work  from  patriotism  alone,  until  it  became  necessary 
for  her  to  remain  as  a  permanent  attache  of  the  hos 
pitals  that  her  name  should  go  upon  the  pay-rolls. 
After  that  she  spent  her  hard  earnings  in  sending 
boxes  to  the  front  and  dispensing  charity  upon  worthy 
objects  immediately  under  her  care. 

"  She  was  with  me  as  voluntary  nurse,  or  matron,  for 
more  than  three  years,  and  during  that  time  she  con 
ducted  herself  in  every  respect  so  as  to  command  the 
respect  and  esteem  of  all  with  whom  she  came  in  con 
tact,  from  the  humblest  private  to  the  highest  in  com 
mand,  and  the  citizens  of  every  place  where  she  was 
stationed  gave  her  a  hearty  welcome,  and  invited  her 
into  the  best  of  society. 


336  MEMORIES. 

"  Feeling  this  much  was  due  to  one  who  suffered  so 
many  privations  for  'Dear  Lost  Cause,'  I  send  it  to 
you  for  you  to  use  as  you  think  proper  in  promoting  her 
good.  You  know  me  well,  and  can  vouch  for  anything  I 
have  said.  Very  respectfully, 

"WM.  T.  MCALLISTER,  MJX, 

"  Late  Surgeon  P.  A.  C.  S." 

After  such  testimonials  of  worth  and  work,  anything 
more  would  seem  out  of  place.  Yet  we  cannot  refrain 
from  mentioning  some  of  the  sayings  of  soldiers  who, 
though  forgotten,  yet  recall  her  with  affection  for  the 
tender  nursing  received  at  her  hands.  Says  one,  "  She 
was  the  moving  spirit  in  the  hospital,  officially  and  prac 
tically.  The  first  object  of  her  ministrations  was  to 
relieve  suffering  and  save  life.  The  next  was  to  fit 
men  for  service.  When  health  was  restored  she  would 
brook  no  shirking,  but  with  the  power  of  kindly  words 
impelled  patients  to  the  field.  Her  zeal  sprang  from 
profound  convictions  of  the  righteousness  of  the  Cause, 
and  with  the  vehemence  of  sincerity  she  wielded  a  great 
influence  over  those  who  had  recovered  under  her  care." 

Another  declares  that  he  has  seen  her  "  not  only  bath 
ing  the  heads  of  soldiers,  but  washing  their  feet." 

So  the  evidence  accumulates,  and  it  is  no  wonder  she 
is  called  by  many  "The  Florence  Nightingale  of  the 
South." 


THE    END. 


£    <    X 


O 

u 

& 
w 


MEDY 

'ROUBLE 

RHEUM 

c/T 

§ 

BLADDE 

5 
pq 

Ul 
ft 

H 

^ 
H 

Q 
^ 
<! 

s 

w 

Q 

W 

H 

0 
H 

•4 

i  OWN 

CURES 

BLADD 

h 

5 
o 

PHORIC 

fa 
O 

» 

AFFEC 

•V 

UJ 

ft 

C 
fc 
«< 

rf 

u 

<j 

PH 

c 

H 
<j 

_} 

<j 

'_; 

^ 

H 
K 

D 

< 
Z 

IDNEY 

CJ 

S 
p 

CO 
H 

FLAMR 

DROPS 

P 

« 

0 

^*& 

0 

^*A 

^ 

3S 

& 

~    < 


O  t/3 

E-T  ^ 

55  o 

w  H 

Q  <5 

CH 

§  z 


<u 
o 

2 
o 

bus    . 

C  » 


94  MILES  THE  SHORTEST. 

NEW  ORLEANS!  CINCINNATI 

Time,    37    Hours. 

Entire  Train,  Baggage  Cars,  Day  Coaches,  and  Sleeping  Cars  run 
through  without  change. 


The    SHORTILiIJVE    via 

Chattanooga 

TO 

THE  CAROLINAS  AND  VIRGINIA, 

RICHMOND,  WASHINGTON,  BALTIMORE, 

The  Shortline  via  Cincinnati  to 

Oliicag-o,     Cleveland,     ISnilulo, 

Niagara  Falls  and  Canada, 

3XToT*r   YorlsL,  ZBoston., 

The  ADIRONDACK  and  WHITE  MOUNTAINS, 
ISTEW      ENGLAND      CITIES, 

And  all  points  NORTH  and  EAST. 

J^»  All  Through  Trains  pass  around  the  base  of  Lookout  Mountain, 
along  the  shore  of  the  Emory  River,  over  the  Famous  High  Bridge, 
and  through  the  Blue  Grass  Region  of  Kentucky  to  Central  Union 
Depot,  where  connection  is  made  for  the  North  and  East  without 
transfer  through  the  city. 

TICKET  OFFICES  f  34.    St.   Cliarles    (Street,   and 
NEW  ORLEANS  :  t  Depot,  Cor.  Press  Street  and  Levee. 

R.  H.  GARRETT,  Div.  Pass,  Agent,  NEW  ORLEANS,  LA. 

J.  C.  GAUI/T,  Gerfl  Manager.  D.  G.  EDWARDS,  G.  P.  and  T.  A. 

CINCINNATI. 

2 


THE 


LIVERPOOL  AND  LONDON  AND  GLOBE 

INSURANCE  COMPANY. 


Fire  Assets $i5,oi4,725-47 

Total  Fire  Liabilities  ....       5,614,692.11 
Surplus  for  Policy  Holders   .    $9,400,033.36 

Assets  in  United  States   .    .    .  $6,639,780.55 
Liabilities  in  United  States     .    3,562,242.30 

Surplus  in  United  States     .    .  $3,077,538.25 


HENRY  V.  OGDEN,  CLARENCE  P.  LOW, 

Resident  Secretary.  Assistant  Secretary. 


LOSSES    CASHED    UPON    ADJUSTMENT    WITHOUT 
DISCOUNT. 


NEW    ORLEANS. 


JOHN  I.  ADAMS.  W.  H.  RENAUD.  J.  G.  ONQ.  P.  A.  BONITO. 

JOHN   I.  ADAMS   &  CO., 

Wholesale    Grocers 

AND 

DEALERS  IN  PROVISIONS,  WINES,  AND  LIQUORS, 
Nos.  43,  45,  find  47  Peters  Street 

(FORMERLY  NEW  LEVEE), 

Coffee,  Sugar,  Molasses,  and  Rice  NEW     ORLEANS 

a  Specialty. 


DR.TICHENOR'S  ANTISEPTIC 

FOR 

Wounds,  Burns,  Bruises,  Colic,  Cramps,  and  Flux, 

and  for  Colic  and  Botts  in  Stock, 

is  without  an  equal. 


TICHENOR   &    SHERROUSE,  Proprietors, 

230   CANAL  STREET,    NEW   ORLEANS. 

S.  JAMISON'S  SON, 

]Vo.   OO   Oarondelet    St.,  IVevr   Orleans, 

IMPORTER   AND    DEALER   IN 

English  and  German  Portland  Cements, 

KOSENDALE  AND  WESTERN  CEMENTS, 
Marble  Dust,  Sand,  Plaster,  Hair,  Lime,  and  Fire  Bricks, 

Fertilizers,  Fire  Clay,  and  Tiles, 
Laths,  Rosin,  Pitch,  and  Building  Materials. 

OILS  A  SPECIALTY. 

CORRESPONDENCE    SOLICITED. 

WM.    RADAM'S 

TVflCROBE     KIL-L-ER 

THE    ONLY  MEDICINE    KNOWN 

That  Removes  the  True  Cause  of  Disease  from  the  System 
Without  Injury  to  the  Person,  and 


CUR.ES    EVERY    KXOWI*    DISEASE. 

The  most  advanced  theory  is  that  all  diseases  are  caused  by  Microbes,  which 
are  living  germs  in  the  blood,  and  that  these  Microbes  cause  inflammation,  fermenta 
tion,  and  decay.  In  vain  have  the  best  scientists  heretofore  sought  for  an  agent  to 
destroy  these  Microbes  in  the  blood  without  killing  the  patient.  This  Medicine 
has  been  known  but  two  years,  yet  thousands  of  persons  will  testify  to  its  won 
derful  powers. 

We  invite  the  fullest  investigation.     Call  or  send  for  Circular. 

RADAM    MICROBE    KILLER    CO., 

Bfo.  14  Caroline  Street,  \»-\v   Orleans,  I^a. 

4 


JOHNSON   IRON   WORKS, 
Julia  St.,  from  Delta  to  Water, 

NEW  ORLEANS. 


TULANE  UNIVERSITY  OF  LOUISIANA. 


Higli  School,  College,  University,  Law, 
and  Medical  Departments. 


Hon.  RANDALL  LEE  GIBSON,  U.S.  Senator,  President  of  Board  of  Administrators. 
WILLIAM  PRESTON  JOHNSTON,  LL.D.,  President  of  University. 


forty -seven  Professors  and  Instructors. 


HIGH  SCHOOL.  Three  Classes— Preparatory,  Intermediate,  and  Sub-Freshman. 
Four  Parallel  Courses.  Drawing  and  Manual  Training  two  hours  daily 
for  all  classes. 

COLLEGE  COURSES.— Classical,  Literary,  Natural  Science,  Mathematical,  Me 
chanical,  and  Commercial. 

UNIVERSITY  COURSE  leads  to  degrees  of  Master  of  Arts,  and  further  study  to 
degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy. 

LAW  AND  MEDICAL  DEPARTMENTS  thoroughly  organized,  with  efficient  Facul 
ties  and  large  attendance  of  students  from  city  and  country  and  adjoin 
ing  States. 


H.  S0PHIE  NEWG6MB  MEMORIAL?  G8LLEGE 

FOB  YOUNG  WOMEN, 

Under  Charge  of  the  Administrators  of  the  University. 


Catalogues  containing  announcement  of  all  departments  may  be  obtained 
upon  application  to 

.  O.  ROGERS, 

Secretary  Tulane  University, 

NEW  ORLEANS,  LA. 


W.  T.   CLUVERIUS, 
Druggist, 

143    Canal,    corner    Bourbon    Street 


Special  and  particular  attention  paid  to  the  conducting  of  a  first-class 
Retail  Drug  Business. 


PRESCRIPTIONS  COMPOUNDED  BY  GRADUATES 
IN  PHARMACY. 


Soda,  Vichy,  and  all  the  Mineral  Waters.    Perfumeries,  Soaps, 
and  all  Toilet  Articles. 


OPEN  ALL  NIGHT,  EVERYTHING  FIRST-CLASS. 

J.  A.  CHALARON, 
fetttr-a!  Insurance  3Vnentt 

*sy 

No.  37  Carondelet  Street, 

Corner     Qravier.  NEXV     ORLEANS, 


RESIDENT    AGENT    AND    ATTORNEY    FOR 

Georgia  Home  Insurance  Co.,  of  Columbus,  Georgia  (Fire). 
Assets $750,000.00  |  Surplus  over 8500,000.00 

Mannheim  Insurance  Co.,  of  Mannheim,  Germany. 
Capital $2,000,000.00  |   Reserve $515,000.00 

Union  Insurance  Co.,  of  Philadelphia,  Pa. 
Capital $250,0<K).00  |   Assets $700,000.00 

The  Travellers'  Life  and  Accident  Insurance  Co.,  of  Hartford,  Ct. 
Assets $11,000,000.00  |  Surplus $2,500,000.00 


CO 


f* 

03 


s  "i5 
SI 

II 

is 

•&1 

iS'S 
S"S 


Superint 
.  TAYLO 


00    3 

S    * 


3    K 

5>       >~ « 

I    C2 

1    S 
10 


*  I  Q 

2*2 
11    < 

W 
& 

i    co 

CD-I     S 
s     ^ 

S      T* 


sso 
tf/ 


and  esti 
re,  erecti 


11  § 

all 

li^i 


2o    £  2 


^    O    =JU        ^J 

•2£.=    2 


m 
III 

r£  ^ 

§2 

ftu 

I! 
r 


Cgj 

fiSsa 

.  §  i  S1 
s>fi- 

Illi 
tf-M 

5  S.s 
|£i 


ILDERS  OF 

aylor's  Improved 
t  Bagasse  Feeders 


team  Traps,  T 
Taylor's  Pate 


d 

;/}  c/3 

II 

|a 

fs 

$s 

<2§ 

.2 

c 

i 

<j 

*B 

2 


c  S? 
1-i 

II 

^ 

l! 


ST 


0) 


5* 

IB 


^       h 
1 
1 

a 

S  a 
|* 

H 

Taylor's 

JJ 

r     1 

i  e 

5"t 

i 

w 
,     «     1 

CO 

4-»  • 

•§  ^ 

*d  2 

§  <j 


«       H 

(4-1 


W     s 


O 

O 


a  S 

s  « 

O  o 

3  « 


^     fe 

Is 


ERNEST  MILTBNBERGER.  H.  GALLY.  SOOTT  MOGKHBB. 

PRESIDENT.  VICE-PRBSIDBNT.  SKORETARY. 

Southern  Insurance  Company 

OF   NEW   ORLEANS, 


ZN"o_ 


CASH    CAPITAL      -       -       -       -       -       $3OO,OOO 

ASSETS,    JA1V.    1,    1888        -       -       -  44=O,OOO 

C.  M.  SORIA,  Pres.     JNO.  S.  RAINEY,  Vice-Pres.    F.  W.  RAINEY,  Sec.  and  Treas. 


GUANO  AND  CHEMICAL  MANUFACTURING  CO. 

Successors  to  Sterns  Fertilizer  and  Chemical  Manufacturing  Co., 

Manufacturers  of  Super-Phosphates,  Pure  Ground  Bone,  Ani 

mal  Charcoal,  and  Chemicals.    Special  Fertilizers  for 

Cotton,  Sugar,  Grain,  Fruit,  and  Vegetables. 

Highest  Standard  Guaranteed. 

14     TJ^IOILNr     STIRIEIET, 
P.  O.  Drawer  442.  ]SKW    Olt.1,1  C  A  >»S. 


OO. 

(LIMITED), 

74  Canal  St.,  New  Orleans,  and  77  and  79  Broad  St.,  New  York, 
Ol,    O3,    and    O5    Oommon    Street, 

NEW    ORLEANS,    LA. 

Importers  and  Dealers  in  Foreign  and  Domestic 


CUTLERY,    GUNS,    PISTOLS, 
Barbed  Fence-Wire,  and  Agricultural  Implements. 

I.    H.    STAUFFBR.  B.    F.    ESHLEMAN.  WALTER   R.   STAUFFBR. 

STAUFFER,  ESHL,E!HAN    &    CO., 

SUCCESSORS  TO  STAUFFHR,  MACRHADY  &  Co., 

IMPORTERS   AND   DEALERS  IN 


Cfutlery,    Guns,    PistoJs,   Iron,   If  ails,   Tin   ana  Leaded  Plates, 
Metals,   Oils,  Paints,  ana  Coraage. 

AGRICULTURA.1L,    IIVLFLEIVEEJNTS. 

No.  103  Chambers  St.,  New  York. 

Nos.  n  to  23  Dorsier,  52  and  54  Customhouse  Streets, 
and  71  Canal  Street, 

IVEW 


REYNOLDS    IRON    WORKS, 


MANUFACTURERS  OF 


The  Celebrated  Reynolds's  Patent  Cotton  Presses 

Agricultural   Implements, 

MACHINERY,  CASTINGS  OF  ALL  KINDS,  ETC., 

Cor.  Delord  and  Fulton  Sts.,  New  Orleans,  La. 

TWOS.  O'CONXOR,  Jr.,  JUanauer. 


PHILIP  WERLEIN 

135  Canal  St.,  New  Orleans. 

OLDEST  AND    BEST 

PIANO    HOUSE. 

Mathushek, 

Mason  &  Hamlin,  Weber, 
and  other  leading  Pianos. 

Mason  &  Hamlin, 

"Estey,    Ferrand   &  Votey, 

and  other  celebrated 

Organs. 

MUSIC  AND  MUSICAL  INSTRUMENTS 

Prices  to  compete  with  any  part 
of  the  United  States.- 


A.  K.  MILLER   &   CO., 

AGENTS    FOR 

"State,"    "American,"    "Inman,"    "  Cunard,"    "White 

Star,"  "Red  Star,"  "Allan,"  "National,"  "  Guion," 

"Hamburg,"   and   "Italian"  Lines   of   Steamers. 

All  Classes  of  Passage  to  and  from  all  Places  in  Europe  and 

America,  via  New  Orleans,  New  York,  Baltimore, 

and  Philadelphia. 

SIGHT   DRAFTS  ON  AM,  CITIES  IN  EUROPE. 

37  Carondelet  Street,  New  Orleans,  La. 


New  Orleans  Railway  and  Mill  Supply  Company, 


Railway,  Steamship,  Mill, 
Contractors',  Machinists',  and  Plumbers' 

SUPPLIES, 

94  Common  Street,  !%*ew  Orleans,  L-a. 


Rubber  and  Leather  Belting,  Hose,  Packing,  Waste,  Lanterns,  Hancock 
Inspirators,  Circular  Saws,  Vices,  Spikes,  Forges,  Gauges,  Differen 
tial  Pulleys,  Penberthy  Injectors,  Boilers,  Engines,  and  Machin 
ery,  Chandeliers,  Bath-Tubs,  Cast,  Lead,  and  Vitrified  Pipe, 
Economy  Ready-Mixed  Paints,  Plumbing,  Steam  and  Gas 
Fittings,    Hot    Water,    Steam,    and    Hot    Air    Heating, 
Joy    Steel    Range,    Durham    Drainage,    Sanitary  and 
Plumbing  Supplies.    Jobbing  promptly  attended  to. 


A.  BALDWIN,  Pres't.  J.  C.  FEBIGER,  Jr.,  Gen'l  Manager- 


WOOD,  SCHNEIDAU  &  CO., 

COAL 


PITTSBURGH,       f^OAl          ANTHRACITE, 

AND   CANNEL  V^  V^ /"\  L«  AND   COKE. 

WHOLESALE  AND  RETAIL. 

Rice  Mills,  Plantations,  Steamships,  Steamboats,  Foundries, 
Cotton  Presses,  Dealers,  and  Families  Supplied. 

31  CARONDBLET  STREET, 

Telephone  876.  USTZEW 

EDWARD    A.    PALFREY, 


No.    12     Ca.rond.elet    Street, 
NEW  ORLEANS,   LA. 


All  Classes  of  Risks  written  at  Lowest  Tariff  Bates. 

Sugar  Houses  and  Detached  Country  Stores  and  Contents 

made  a  Specialty. 

10 


ESTABLISHED    1782. 


PHffiNIX  ASSURANCE  COMPANY  OF  LONDON 

Losses  Paid  Since  Organization,  over  $80,000,000. 
Losses  promptly  adjusted  and  paid  at  New  Orleans  Office,  67  and  69  Camp  St. 


ESTABLISHED    1849. 


Crescent  Insurance  Company  of  New  Orleans. 

Losses  Paid  Since  Organization,  orer  $10,500,000. 
67  AND    69   CAMP  STREET. 

W.  R.  LYMAN,  Pres.  Jos.  BOWLING,  Vice-Pres.  CHAS.  E.  RICE,  Sec. 

S.  HERNSHEIM,  BROS.  &  Ge., 


MANUFACTURERS  OF 


LEAF  TOBACCO  FOR  THE 

MEXICAN  AND  CENTRAL 

AMERICAN  MARKETS. 


CIGKRBTTES 


Cor.  ,lt<li<i  ami  Jflat/azine 


TOBKCCO, 


NEW  ORLEANS,  LA. 


PETER    F.    PESCUD 

(Successor  to  Barker  &  Pescud), 

General    Irisu.ra.nce    Agent, 

188  Gravier  Street,  New  Orleans. 

JEina.  Insurance  Co.,  Hartford ASSETS,  $9,528,388 

Home  Insurance  Co.,  New  York 8,061,182 

Hartford  Insurance  Co.,  Hartford 5,288,603 

Springfield  Fire  and  Marine  Insurance  Co.,  Massachusetts.   3,099,903 

Lion  Fire  Insurance  Co.,  London 4,504,155 

London  and  Lancashire  Insurance  Co.,  Liverpool 1,615,640 

Orient  Insurance  Co.,  Hartford 1,641.375 

Sun  Fire  Office  Co.,  London 1,706,268 

Commercial  Insurance  Co..  CaliforuiR 500,000 

Employees'  Liability  (Accident),  London 238,466 

Metropolitan  Plate  Glass  Insurance  Co. ,  New  York 220,000 

LOSSES   ADJUSTED   AND  PAID   IN   NEW   ORLEANS,  LA. 


OPIUM 


AND 


*    *    •>    WHISKEY  HABITS 

Cured  at  home,  without  pain.     Book  of  particulars  sent  free. 

B.   M.  WOOL-LEY,   M.D., 

ATLANTA,    GA. 


Office,  65K  Whitehall  Street. 

11 


3VC.    IF1. 

Southern  Chain  Works, 

Cane  Carrier  and  Pitch  Chain  a  Specialty, 

'       194, 196,  and  198  Magazine  Street,  bet.  Julia  and  St.  Joseph, 

NE3&C     ORL.E75NS. 

All  orders  intrusted  to  me  will  be  executed  with  neatness,  promptness, 
and  despatch ,  at  the  most  reasonable  prices  and  under  full  guarantee. 


W.    r>TJIVBAR,^S     SOIVS, 

Packers  of  Semi-Tropical  Products, 

H:   C^TJLF   SH::R,I:M::P, 

Potted  Shrimp,  Green  Turtle,  Preserved  Figs,  Orange 
Preserve,  Figs  in  Cordial,  Okra,  etc. 

Manufacturers  of  French  Cordials  and  Fruit  Syrups. 

ZETIEW 


-SPRINTS    MORE    EXCLUSIVE    NEWS3j«- 

Local, 
Political, 

and 

General, 

THAN    ALL    OTHER    NEWSPAPERS 
COMBINED. 


Circulation,   316,636    Copies    per   Day 
during    189O. 


12 


DELICATE    AS    A     COBWEB. 

LASTINO    AS    THE    HILLS. 

DOUSSAN'S  SWEET  SOUTH 


Sale   toy  all    Druggists,    at 
7" 5   Cents   a    Bottle. 


If  your  druggist  don't  keep  it,  send  money  to  DOUSSAN'S  FRENCH 
PERFUMERY,  46  Chartres  Street,  New  Orleans,  La.,  and  they  will 
forward,  expenses  paid. 


S71/HTH     BROS.    5*    GO. 

(LIMITED), 

WHOLESALE  GROCERS 

AND 

IMPORTERS, 

+ 

Nos.  102,  104,  and   106    Poydras    Street, 

NEW   ORLEANS,   LA. 


A.    LAMBERT, 

PITTSBURG,    ANTHRACITE,    AND     CANNEL 


Families  supplied  at  shortest  notice,  and  particular  attention  paid  to 
planters. 

Office,  24  Carondelet  Street, 

Branch  Office  and  Landing,  tie-  IAS    f\ot   cutjc      i    A 

Foot  of  Desire  St.  NEW    ORLEANS,    LA. 

HENRY  C.  BUTCHER,  JOHN  OLIVER,  AMOS  R.  LITTLE, 

President.  Secretary  and  Treasurer.  Vice-  President. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.  Philadelphia,  Pa.  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


THE  SOUTHERN  COTTON  OIL 

COMPANY, 

GKetna  mills,  180    Common.    Street, 

A.  C.  LANDRY,  Manager.  NEW    ORLEANS,    LA. 

13 


IB1. 

Building  Specialties, 

63  and  69  Baronne  St.,Ne\v  Orleans,  La. 

Terra-Cotta  of  Every  Description. 
Stained  and  Decorative  Glass.  Fine  Hard- Wood  Tttantels. 

Glared  and  Encaustic  Tiles. 
F.  W.  Devoes  «fc  Co.'s  Paints  and  Varnishes. 


SEND    FOR    CATALOGUES    AND    ESTIMATES. 

ZE3I.    F.    BTJOZKLZmiT, 

No.  8  CAMP  STREET,  NEW  ORLEANS, 

HAS  ON   HAND  A  FINE  STOCK  OF 

\\altham  Watches, 

AT   LOW   PRICES. 

ALSO  SILVERWARE,  JEWELRY,  SPECTACLES. 


Watch  and  Jewelry  Repairing  a  Specialty. 


92  and  O4  Magamine  St.,  New  Orleans, 

Paints,  Building  Materials,  Naval  Stores,  Oils. 

WHITE  AND  RED  LEAD,  NAILS,  FIRE  BRICK, 

MIXED  AND  DRY  COLORS,  LIME,  SAND, 

WINDOW  GLASS,  CEMENT,  HAIR, 

VARNISHES,  GLUES,  PLASTER  PARIS, 

BRUSHES,  ETC.  FIRE  CLAY  AND  FIRE  TILES. 


Burning   and    Maeninery    Oils    and   Axle    Grease. 

New  Orleans  National  Bank 

(UNITED    STATES    DEPOSITORY), 

Corner  of    Camp   and  Common  Streets. 

Capital $200,000 

Surplus 550,ooo 

Undivided  Profits  .......       43.532 

$793,532 

A.  BALDWIN,  Presided.  WM.  PALPEY,  Cashier 

S.  KATZ,  Vice-President.  D.  G.  BALDWIN,  Assistant  Cashier, 

14 


NEW  ORLEANS  1 

DEPARTMENT. 

4> 

THE: 

MUTUAL  LIFE 

INSURANCE 

COMPANY 

OF 

NEW  YORK. 

<*> 

The  largest,  strongest,  and  best 
Company  in  the  World. 

,£, 

LOUISIANA  NATIONAL 

BANK  BUILDING. 

(M 


GO 

w 


o       >> 
^       > 


L 

nt. 


B 


r 


F.  FISCHER   &  SONS, 
Picayune  Saw  and  Planing  Mills 

Dealers  in  all  kinds  of  Lumber,  Shingles,  Laths,  etc. 


A   SPECIALTY. 

Office  and  Mills,  Oarrollton  Ave,  and  Levee,  7th  District, 

Telephone  407.  NEW  ORLEANS,   LA. 

15 


Christian  f  Oman's  Exchange, 

COR.  SOUTH  flND  GUMP  STS., 


SALESROOM 

for  all  kinds  of  plain  and  fancy  needle-work,  decorative 
and  art  work, 

LUNCH-ROOM 

for  ladies  and  gentlemen,  open  daily  from  7  A.M.  until  6  P.M. 
Breakfast,  lunch,  and  dinner  at  reasonable  rates,  with  neat 
and  prompt  service.  15-cent  lunch  for  clerks  and  sales 
women. 

Constantly  on  hand  for  sale  or  order,  home-made  bread, 
cakes,  ice-cream,  pies,  preserves,  pickles,  sauces,  salads, 
roasts,  etc. 

Orders  for  luncheons  carefully  filled.  Lunch  put  up  for 
travellers. 

Orders  received  for  all  kinds  of  needle-work. 

Ladies  visiting  New  Orleans  will  find  rooms  at  reason 
able  rates. 

A  FREE  CIRCULATING  LIBRARY 

is  connected  with  the  Exchange,  and  ladies  shopping,  etc., 
will  find  rest  and  refreshment  in  the  comfortable  toilet- 
room,  as  well  as  a  great  convenience  in  the  parcel-check 
department  attached. 

16 


Talane  University  of  Louisiana. 


HIGH  SCHOOL,  COLLEGE,  UNIVERSITY,  LAW, 
AND  MEDICAL  DEPARTMENTS, 

AND 

H.  SOPHIC  NEWCOMB   MEMORIAL  COLLEGE 
FOR  YOUNG  "WOMEN. 


HON.  RANDELL  L.  GIBSON,  U.S.  Senator, 

President  of  Board  of  Administrators. 

WM.  WESTON   JOHNSTON,  LL.D., 

President  of  University. 


HIGH  SCHOOL  prepares  for  college  or  business, 
with  four  parallel  courses  : — Classical,  Literary  and 
Scientific,  Mechanical,  and  Commercial.  Drawing 
and  Manual  Training  two  hours  daily  for  all 
courses. 

COLLEGE.  Classical,  Literary,  Scientific,  and  En 
gineering  Courses,  leading  to  the  Degree  of  Bach 
elor  of  Arts  or  Bachelor  of  Science.  There  is 
a  practical  course  in  Electrical  Engineering,  and 
a  complete  plant  of  the  Edison  System  for  In 
struction. 

THE  H.  SOPHIC  NEWCOMB  MEMORIAL  COL 
LEGE  FOR  YOUNG  WOMEN  offers  a  full  course  in 
Science  and  Letters,  with  special  courses  in  Art. 

LAW  AND  MEDICAL  DEPARTMENTS  thor 
oughly  organized. 

17 


DO  NOT  DELAY  YOUR  SUBSCRIPTION  KOR 

LIPPINCOTT'S 
MAGAZINE 


Which  now  stands  in  the  Front  Rank  of  Monthly  Publications,  and 
occupies  the  position  of 

A   LEADER   AMONG    LEADERS. 

Each  number  contains  A  COMPLETE  NOVEL,,  as  well  as  an  abundance 
of  miscellaneous  matter  of  an  Interesting  and  Instructive  nature. 
One  year's  subscription  gives 

A  LIBRARY  OF  TWELVE  COMPLETE  NOVELS, 

By  American  authors,  together  with  AN  ABUNDANCE  OF  SHORT 
STORIES,  POEMS,  ESSAYS,  and  matters  of  Universal  Interest  to  Gen 
eral  Readers,  making 

A   VOLUME  OF  NEARLY  TWO  THOUSAND  PAGES. 

The  success  of  LIPPINCOTT'S  stands  unprecedented  in  the  annals 
of  magazine  publishing,  and  to-day  its  familiar  title  is  welcomed  in 
every  hamlet,  village,  town,  and  city  throughout  the  United  States. 

The  best  writers  of  the  age  have  been  secured,  and  new  features 
will  from  time  to  time  be  added  which  will  give  to  LIPPINCOTT'S 

A   DISTINCTIVE    PLACE   OF   ITS  OWN. 

Amelie  Rives,  Edgar  Saltus,  John  Habberton, 

Edgar  Fawcett,  Capt.  Chas.  King,  U.S.A.,  Grace  King, 

M.  Elliot  Seawell,  Henry  Hayes,  Barnet  Phillips, 

Charlotte  Adams,  Richard  Henry  Stoddard,  Judge  Tour  gee, 

Julien  Gordon,  Walt  Whitman,  Ouida, 

Anna  Katharine  Green,  W.  Clark  Russell,  J.  Armoy  Knox, 

F.  S.  Cozzens,  Lotta,  Julian  Hawthorne, 

Jeannette  L.  Gilder,  H.  H.  Boyesen,  Amelia  E.  JBarr, 

And  many  others  contribute  to  its  pages. 


SINGLE     NUMBER,    25    CENTS. 
$3  00     RER    YEAR. 


LIPPINCOTT'S  MAGAZINE PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

18 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  Sl.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


APfi 


22: 


'!"••         ' 


IRV1N1 


a 


LD  21-100m-7,'39(402s) 


YB  37897 


227190 


